


all this and heaven too

by asael, unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 67,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: There are many tales of the Lord of the Dead, but none have seen him in hundreds of years. After all, visiting the underworld is forbidden, and anyway who would want to?Claude, of course. When there are secrets to uncover, he's more than happy to break a few rules - though he has no way of anticipating what will result from his transgression.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 357
Kudos: 722





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to another collab between myself and unraelated! This AU is naturally inspired by the Hades & Persephone myth, but we've taken it in its own direction. We really hope you enjoy it, because we've been having an absolute blast plotting and writing it! As of this posting, I can't say how many chapters it will be, but certainly shorter than our other fic ('the warmth of your doorways'). The rating may go up in later chapters, and we'll change it at that point.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥

The arrival of a new god is a gradual thing.

Some are born from the desires of men, prayed into being. Some are the children of other gods, growing into their own niches. Some are the product of sharing tales - human nature. A group of people, traveling from one land and settling in another, bringing stories of the gods of their homeland along. Over time, some stories disappear, while others catch on to a fragment of the human psyche and grow.

Perhaps a land that once had no god to rule over nature, wild places and growing things and survival, slowly learns of a god who is a patron of those things. Perhaps they begin to send their prayers in that direction - _please, let me find a path out of these woods_. _Please, keep me safe from wild creatures on my journey._ _Please, please, help me survive._

Perhaps when their prayers are answered, they make a sacrifice. An act of thanks. And as this spreads, as more and more mortals call a god’s name, he finds a place in their land. It may not be the land of his birth, but it’s part of him now, and _this_ part of him belongs here.

Or at least that is how Claude would begin his story. He’s always had an interest in stories, after all.

Of course, there are many things that pique Claude's interest. He has an endless curiosity, a boundless thirst for knowledge, and he is never quite content with simply _letting things lie._ The world is full of secrets, even for the gods - and for a god like Claude, relatively fresh and new, that is even more true. The pantheon he has found himself a part of has secrets he doesn't know. Secrets he very much wants to find out.

He knows there was a war, once upon a time. He knows the sky empress and the king of justice clashed, and the king was thrown into the darkness, becoming the lord of the underworld. He's met Edelgard, who still rules from on high - she regards him with suspicion, given his relative newness combined with his innate power. But she has been grudgingly welcoming, secure in her throne and supported by her followers. Besides, Claude's been careful to offer no threat to her. He's nowhere near foolish enough to do so without knowing what he might be getting himself into.

He's met most of the other gods simply over the course of things. As the god of nature, of fresh earth and green growing things and the turn of the seasons, they enter his realm often, and most of them are polite enough to greet him. He's met many of Edelgard's closest, and some of those who once pledged themselves to the king of justice, and of course many of the newcomers like him.

He has never met the lord of the underworld.

It's not such a surprise. Dimitri never leaves his realm - he is bound there by Edelgard, bound to never step foot in the sunlight again. And no one goes to the underworld unless they are dead, not even a god.

But because Claude's never met the lord of the dead, his curiosity is killing him.

When he says that to Hilda, she rolls her eyes, unamused by his wordplay. “You don't want to meet him.” 

They sit in the forest by a quiet, still pool. It's a warm day, and Hilda is dangling her feet in the water while Claude lays on the grass, watching the clouds pass.

“He tried to overthrow the empress, and his only company are the souls of the dead. He's definitely violent, probably crazy, and you know he's got to be a terrible conversationalist.”

“Maybe,” Claude says. He runs his fingers through the grass, idly reaching out, coaxing flowers to bloom beneath his touch. Something new, something small and brightly-colored, he thinks. “It's not so much that I want to meet him. It's more that - well, don't you feel like there are things they aren't telling us?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm perfectly happy staying down here and avoiding Edelgard and all the other gods of the sky court.” Hilda shrugs. “I've got enough to do already. All these humans with their prayers, _oh please Miss Hilda won't you bless me with inspiration, won't you teach me how to make the most beautiful jewelry?_ Ugh. Who cares if the old gods have secrets?” She glances at Claude and rolls her eyes, though she's smiling. “You, I guess. Just don't do anything stupid, okay?”

“I would never,” says Claude, his hand over his heart now, the tiny blossoms of a perfect pink flower opening next to him. “I'm just going to... do some digging.”

Hilda scoffs and tells him that she isn't going to help get him out of whatever trouble he ends up in - but he knows that's not true. Besides, who's to say he'll end up in trouble? All he intends to do is a bit of research.

And so he does.

There are no records of the war, of course. There are tales that the humans tell, of a clash in the heavens leading to one of the gods being thrown down to the underworld. But those are muddled and contradictory, as most tales of the gods are - the humans projecting their own thoughts and desires. But since there are no records, the only way to learn anything is by careful questioning of the ones who were there.

That's where Claude runs into trouble.

He's new, which means many of the older gods don't trust him. Not only that, but he's poking at a sore spot, digging into something most of them don't want to talk about. Naturally, that only makes him _more_ curious, but it doesn't get him anywhere. He asks those who had been the god of justice's companions once upon a time - Felix, god of war, and Sylvain, god of love. Felix scowls and refuses to speak. Sylvain turns his charming smile on Claude and slides out from under the questions over and over again. It's particularly annoying since that's usually _Claude's_ tactic.

He tries Edelgard's loyal followers then, though he doesn't expect much. They are, after all, loyal to her. It quickly becomes tiring to be glowered at by Hubert, and even Linhardt is unwilling to cough up any information - ironic, Claude thinks, for someone who is meant to be the god of knowledge.

In the end, Claude knows there's only one thing to be done.

It's true, what Hilda said. Dimitri cannot leave the underworld, and even the other gods are not meant to journey to the land of the dead unless they themselves are crossing over into death. But Claude has never allowed himself to be bound by anyone else's rules, and he does not intend to now.

In the end, it's easy. Death is part of nature, and Claude has dominion over all such things, and so he simply has to wait and watch. In truth, he doesn't know if animals travel to the underworld when they die - but he knows that humans do. So he waits, and he watches, and before long someone dies in his realm. It's an accident, a fallen tree and an unobservant mortal, a life ended in the blink of an eye.

Claude observes with little emotion. That's life, after all, for all who are not gods. More importantly, that’s what he was waiting for.

He follows the man's spirit with soundless steps, follows him through a crack in a mountain that he's rather sure wasn't there before, follows him down a long and lightless path. It's dark and empty and without life, without all the green growing things that give Claude his power. But he's far too curious to let that turn him away, so he keeps walking, following this shade of a man, his footsteps leaving soft patches of green behind him - flowers and grass and simple weeds, living things that wither away moments after he's moved on.

Claude journeys downward to the land of the dead.

The land of the dead is a somber one, quiet and lifeless. After the narrow staircase, the claustrophobic and mazelike tunnels, the cracks in the ground that Claude must slide through, there is a cavern as wide as the oceans themselves, opening up to the poor soul (and, by proxy, Claude) like a book being splayed open on a table.

It's dark here, but not without some form of luminescence. Light comes from the blue flames in the braziers that line the walkway, as a soft glow emitted from the rocks themselves, and from the hellish river that feeds into the great moat which wraps itself around the center structure.

They're too far away to see it in much detail yet, but it's black and the peak of it stretches up to scrape against the roof of the cavern, so tall that it acts as a beacon, and all the things that that move down here - namely the souls from other deaths across the vast kingdom and beyond, creeping through the cracks in the earth, down through the mountains, finding their own way here - are drawn to it.

But they have to follow the rules first - there is no justice without laws, after all.

There are nine gates in total, each of them spanning the entire length of the path leading up through them, each of them with their doors thrown wide open, simple enough to pass through. Walk through one and it may take half an hour to reach the next - and each one is its own test.

KILLERS OF THE INNOCENT is engraved into the top of the first gate in the old language, the one which every god knows, even if it is no longer spoken - Claude's spirit passes through it easily. They walk and walk and walk, until the second: TRAITORS AND BETRAYERS. The spirit passes through it as well.

Behind them, another spirit is stopped and it reaches its hand out to touch the open air of the gate but cannot force its way through. It lets out a lingering wail, its form bashing against the invisible barrier for a time until it slides away, off the path and into another crevice that leads to another location, unseen, far from the palace that Claude and his spirit are walking toward.

The spirit continues hesitantly through the gates - but Claude has found a good man and Claude himself is a young god here, too new to this life to have committed any of these grievous sins. The laws lessen in intensity with each subsequent gate, until they're left with ones such as VICTIMS OF AVARICE and, finally, LACK OF HOMAGE.

The ninth gate says nothing, but between its open doors rests an enormous lion.

The creature is jet black, almost unnoticeable at first against the darkness of the path. It's sleeping there, obstructing the way, the fur of its giant flank slowly rising and falling with each even breath. The palace stretches on before them, close enough to see the magnificent detail in the carvings, more massive than any human can ever dream of making. Thousands of people could live comfortably in this building alone, but there is only one inside who can be considered alive, and his power can be felt even out here, pulsing against the stone.

The lion is, somehow, an extension of that power. The spirit trembles and slowly inches its way closer but the lion does not stir from its slumber. The final test.

_Be brave._

The beast's breath is hot, the only trace of warmth in the entire cavernous underworld and the spirit recoils from it, trembling, the final gate so close and yet further than any obstacle he had overcome yet. The spirit pushes forward again, reaching out a long tendril of a hand which brushes against the center of the open gate - and then it's through.

The lion stirs, an electric-blue eye cracking open as Claude moves to follow. It senses him, feels the life in him, and moves on its massive haunches to stand, blocking the path entirely and obscuring the view of the spirit behind it.

The final gate. The palace stretched out before him, all the answers he seeks.

The gatekeeper yawns, its mouth large and full of many teeth.

Claude fears no living creature. If he were aboveground in his own kingdom, a lion like this would take food from his hand, fall asleep with its head in his lap, as close to tame as a wild thing could ever be. Claude is not a threat to them, not prey, but something familiar, something to follow and obey and worship in their own inhuman way.

But Claude is not in his kingdom, and this creature is not one he has any power over.

Which isn't to say he's scared - he has a healthy amount of caution, certainly, but as is so often the case it's curiosity that drives him. He steps forward, walking until he's standing before the lion. It's larger than him, and for a moment Claude considers his options.

There's no point in testing his power against this creature - it belongs here, and though Claude has a certain amount of power no matter where he is, he's nowhere near stupid enough to try and face off against the pet of the lord of the dead while in the underworld. He could trick it, probably - plans and schemes are something Claude has always been good at. But he hasn't come here to set himself against Dimitri. It seems unwise to start things off on the wrong foot.

And so he smiles up at the lion.

“Would you tell your master that he has a visitor?”

He holds out his hand. Clasped between his fingers is a white lily, the sort of flower so often left to honor the dead. So long as Claude is touching it, it lives even in this place, but he knows the moment it leaves his hand it will begin to die, its essence spun away by the power of the underworld. A place no living thing is meant to be.

“My name is Claude. I've come here to meet him.”

He offers his flower to the lion, a token of peace and a tiny piece of his own power. It will be unfamiliar to Dimitri - they've never met, and if there was a god of nature before Claude, they would surely have been very different. But it will offer some clue to who his visitor is, and - hopefully - it will make Dimitri curious enough to come out and see him.

The lion tips its head at him, offering him a slow, solemn blink as the lily is presented to it. It pads forward, toward Claude's hand with a muted curiosity and when it's close enough, it breathes in deep through its nostrils, scenting it, feeling the _life_ of it - and of Claude - in such close proximity.

Life is forbidden down here, or rather, it simply cannot _be_. This piece, this fragment of something is more life than the creature has ever seen before, and while the beast's dual purpose is both a test to the bravery of the dead as well as to threaten any living things which try their luck at coming down here... well, the latter has never happened prior to this.

Its breath frays the edges of the petals, blackening them for a brief moment before Claude's proximity restores it to life. This seems even more interesting to the creature, who looks back toward Claude as if assessing him for a moment, and leans in to gingerly take the stem of the flower in its teeth.

It won't last for long like this - it's already decaying - but even the husk will be evidence enough that something is here and so the lion turns and leaves, off for its master.

The gates swing shut without the gatekeeper there to guard them, leaving Claude on the other side, unable to cross over despite all his earthly power. They remain shut for some time, long enough that a small handful of spirits accumulate around Claude, pressing up against the closed gate in a cloudy confusion, before resting back to await judgement in whatever form it comes.

They're waiting awhile.

Death seeps in and nips at Claude's heels, between his toes: _you are not welcome here_ , it seems to say and tugs at Claude's essence, as if trying to convince him to give into decay so that he could be like all the others who have found this place. It isn't a sentient force - more like a curse on the very ground he stands on - and by itself, it isn't threatening.

But then, all at once, it intensifies, clawing at Claude's ankles as if begging for power, stinging his cheeks, pushing down on his shoulders. The weight increases with the arrival of the god of death and the spirits around Claude cower helplessly in the knowledge that their new ruler is coming, he's getting closer, he's _here._

The gates open.

Behind them is a man - a god, tall and shrouded in the blackened steel of armor and a heavy dark cloak. His jaw is sharp, his gold-blond hair hanging loosely down, obstructed only by the dark shape of an eyepatch over his right eye.

He says nothing at first. The lion is behind him, much smaller now, shrunk down to the size where it can slink behind its master as a looming threat, its blackened tail twitching in the darkness.

Dimitri's eye scans over Claude and the spirits behind him. He looks at them and raises his right hand, beckoning them forward, in through the gate. Claude is not invited yet, but when they step through the threshold, they let out soft sighs and dissipate into the wind, spiraling in toward the palace. Once his job is taken care of, he finally stares Claude down, wordlessly looking over the being who dared to enter his realm.

Slowly, Dimitri raises his left hand this time - something is grasped in it. He opens his palm to reveal a withered pile of dust and ash and turns it slowly so that it slips from his hand and falls to the ground between them both.

“The living,” he says finally, his voice deep and booming, “are not permitted in the realm of the dead.”

Claude looks at the man in front of him - the god. They make a sharply contrasting pair. Dimitri is tall and garbed for war, encased in iron, as unwelcoming as possible. Claude changes his attire to suit the situation, as most gods do, but for this journey he dressed simply - a light shirt, soft yellow pants. His feet are bare, as they often are, keeping him in contact with the earth.

Dimitri is harsh, cold, protected, all dark colors and intimidation. Claude is unprotected, all in light colors and soft fabrics, making no attempt to intimidate.

But he is powerful. Shockingly so - if Edelgard rules the skies and Dimitri the underworld, Claude is the closest thing to a ruler of the earth above them, the land that humans and wild things walk upon. But he is new, at least to these gods, and so he puts on an inconsequential face. Clever but harmless, nonthreatening despite his power. Dimitri wears his power, as Edelgard does. Claude hides his away under a smile.

And smile he does, looking up at Dimitri. If he feels any fear, he doesn't show it. His eyes are keen, his interest clear.

“I know I didn't send word ahead, but is that any way to greet a visitor?”

He steps back, just enough to offer a shallow bow. It would not be correct for him to truly bow to Dimitri - he didn't to Edelgard, either. He accepts neither of them as a ruler above him, though he's at least clever enough not to make a point of showing that off.

But regardless, it is courteous to offer his respect to the lord of the land he's intruded upon. And Claude does not want Dimitri to become his enemy, especially when they've only just met. Especially when he's so _interesting._

“I would ask for your hospitality, my lord. You can decide if I am permitted - after all, I am a god as well. That's a bit more than just 'living', wouldn't you say?”

If Dimitri demands that he leave, he'll have to go. This is Dimitri's realm, and disobeying a direct refusal is not something that Claude would resist even if he had the power to do so - which he's not sure that he does. If they were above, under the sky and among the trees, it might be different. But not here, where he can feel Dimitri's power pressing against his skin.

So he settles on this: charm, and a smile, and the knowledge that it's likely been a long time since Dimitri has truly spoken to anyone but the dead. If Claude's lucky, maybe he'll be curious too.

Dimitri scarcely moves as Claude speaks, his eye dark and fixated on him as he bows. Claude does not know if Dimitri knows of him - perhaps he has messengers from the world above, sometimes. Perhaps not. If he does, surely they would have told him of Claude.

 _A new god_ , they might have whispered in his ear, _he walks the earth and helps the flowers grow._

He surely has no need of flowers. No need of the gods above, both new and old - Claude is hardly the first god to spring up from the dew since Dimitri has been chained to the underworld, and he will not be the last.

But Claude knows that he is, however, the first of the new gods to make the journey down here. Dimitri likely hasn't seen a new face in many long centuries, and Claude can hope that his curiosity might be piqued.

“The laws of the underworld are clear,” Dimitri finally says. “You come here in death. To do otherwise is to face the wrath of-”

His jaw tenses, but he does not speak her name. Perhaps he can't. A dark shadow falls over his face and he leans back, fingers stretched out. The lion rises to his hand, pressing its large head into his palm, some form of comfort. Dimitri stills and looks back to Claude, his expression sharp.

“...but if you accept those terms and your eventual punishment… then I suppose you may enter. If it does not kill you.”

Claude knows that he is breaking Edelgard's laws simply by coming down here. But he's fairly certain no one saw him, and Edelgard isn't omniscient - unless one of her minions caught a glance, Claude expects to be able to get away with this. Well, so long as Dimitri does not tell her, but why would he? As far as Claude knows, even if Edelgard is the one person who could journey here without consequence, she never would.

And Dimitri is letting him stay, which is a good sign.

“Thank you.”

He is wildly curious about the palace now. About how everything here works - just as he was curious about how Dimitri ended up here to begin with, all the secrets the older gods are hiding. But he isn't going to rush off and explore, of course. Who knows if he'll ever be able to see any of this again, if Dimitri will ever allow him to return? He wants to make the most of this, and that means - Dimitri.

“I'm Claude.” He told the lion already, but he doesn't know how much information they've shared. How much Dimitri might know about him. “God of nature, living things, the earth and the trees and all that live among them. It's true that I may not belong here, but your realm won't kill me. Nothing's managed to yet.”

He approaches the gate now. He watches Dimitri, not the lion - Dimitri has welcomed him, and Claude isn't going to creep in like a fearful spirit. He is a god, and if Dimitri has welcomed him, he is safe. At least, that's what he'll assume for now. The truth is, he doesn't know anything about Dimitri except what frightened mortals whisper among themselves. Most of the other gods don't speak of him at all, and avoided Claude's (very reasonable, he thought) questions.

But his first impression is that Dimitri is somber and serious. He thinks Dimitri tries to be intimidating, but also that it simply happens. He is the lord of the dead, and any living thing ought to fear that on some level. It's different for gods, of course, because death is not inevitable. But Claude isn't afraid. Wary, perhaps, because survival is important to him, but not afraid.

“Are you busy? I don't wish to take you away from your duties, but I'd like to steal some of your time, if I may.”

Claude passes through the gate. Nothing happens to him, not like the other spirits which pass through and then are reduced further to their very essence. There's no pull to grind him down, to separate him and spirit that integral part of him away into the dark mechanisms of the underworld - he's still alive, after all.

Dimitri turns and begins moving back to the palace. The lion stays in place, stretches out at the base of the gate with another large yawn. As it moves, it seems to grow in size, its large paws sliding on the ground until the beast is just as massive as it was when Claude first saw it. The lion huffs and settles itself back down again, head in its paws, carelessly obstructing most of the gate and falling back into a soft slumber.

“All I have is time,” Dimitri finally says coarsely, but he doesn't dissuade Claude from following him as he walks through the large and empty courtyard.

Up close like this, the structure is... beautiful, in the way that a well-fashioned blade is beautiful. The stone is a dark glittering black, with spires rising up toward the roof of the cavern and thick, dark chains holding down the drawbridge which they must cross in order to reach the doors. Beneath the drawbridge is a moat which shimmers with a blue-green substance that is too transparent and soft to be water, but isn't quite anything else either.

The palace is unfathomably large, and when Dimitri raises a hand for the main doors to open, the interior is decorated much the same: shadows and spikes and blades adorning the empty halls, which stretch before them for what seems like an eternity. Dimitri steps onto the marble floors of the initial hallway, but glances back toward Claude before he moves any further.

“What is it that you want? If you've come with a proposition, we will go to the throne room. Otherwise, I'll summon something else - a sitting room, perhaps.”

Claude looks around as they walk. It's beautiful but lifeless, impossibly crafted but empty. It's clear that a creature like him, who grows flowers at a touch and can't walk through a forest without wild creatures pacing his footsteps, was never meant to come here. But Claude is used to feeling out of place, used to ignoring that and pressing on. He pauses at the entrance with Dimitri and smiles at him, easy.

“I just came to talk,” he says. “A sitting room would be perfect.”

He thinks Dimitri probably doesn't know quite what to do. He doesn't get many visitors, after all. Perhaps Claude should have brought something - a gift. Fruit or tea or a lamb to slaughter. But he didn't even know if he'd be allowed in.

He peers up at Dimitri, taking him in more fully. He's been serious but polite, his tone edging on harsh but never quite getting there. He didn't turn Claude away, and has even invited him in, even deigned to sit with him and (hopefully) talk for awhile. He's hard to read, even for someone like Claude who's awfully good at it, but then they've never met before. Claude still isn't sure what to expect from him, but he's tentatively hopeful.

He wonders if Dimitri ever wears anything but that armor, shielding him from the world. He wonders if Dimitri is truly comfortable in this vast empty space, with its harshness and its beauty. Maybe he is. Or maybe it's just been so long since he's seen anything else that this all seems natural.

“I've met nearly all the others, but not you, so I thought I'd come down and introduce myself.”

He smiles at Dimitri again, as if journeying to the underworld to meet a god who's meant to be isolated eternally is just the kind of thing someone ought to do when they've recently become part of a godly pantheon. And maybe it is - or maybe it should be.

Of course he's curious. Of course he wants answers, he wants all the secrets the other gods haven't given him. But he doesn't really expect that Dimitri will give them to him that easily. In truth, simply meeting him, seeing him and feeling his power and walking through his domain, settled some of Claude's curiosity. There'll be more, there's always more, but if all he gets from this visit is the sight of Dimitri's face, the careful way his hand rested on his lion, that will be enough.

“Hm.” Dimitri doesn't respond in words right away and merely starts walking again, his footsteps loud in the echo chamber of the hallway. Despite the complexity and size of the palace, they don't need to walk far - only to the nearest door, which Dimitri reaches forward with his gloved hand on the handle. For a moment, he pauses, and Claude can do nothing but watch him, wondering.

Then Dimitri opens the door into a lavish sitting room, the kind of room that one might take a guest in as they're waiting on supper or something else. There are two uncomfortable couches and a table between them, stacked high with an elegant tea set, all in silvers and blacks. A desk sits on the edge of the room with a similarly-uncomfortable looking chair, but it's all merely decoration, really.

The room is empty aside from that, sparse, claustrophobic in a sense due to being windowless. Light spills out from the braziers, but it seems to be a magical sort of light which fills the room as clearly as if it were the early evening. Dimitri frowns, but - seems to decide that it will do.

“Here.” He moves to sit, and the blackened steel of the chair adjusts itself to him without conscious thought, growing up around his elbows, and at his fingertips to emulate more of a throne than a simple seating chair. Dimitri pays it no mind and leans back, his eye fixated on Claude.

So the realm responds to Dimitri's desires, his need. Claude supposes that's not such a surprise - his does to him as well, though not to this extent. The land above is shaped by the humans upon it as well, so while he can make a bed of soft grass appear to rest upon, he couldn't create a bedframe and mattress out of nothing. But in a place like this, the desires of the humans that worship them have a different effect, and Dimitri has more power over his surroundings than most.

Claude is an observant sort. He takes in every nuance - the lack of windows, the lighting, the throne. He thinks Dimitri's unconscious thoughts must have an effect on what he creates as well: closed off, proper, dimly lit. And the throne, a reflection of his role here. Perhaps it's meant as a reminder to Claude as well, a reminder that Dimitri is king here and Claude only a visitor.

Well, Claude wasn't likely to forget that.

“You 'thought you'd come down',” Dimitri echoes, musing over the words as he fixes Claude with a flat, cold stare, “you'd be the first. This isn't a place for the above gods... especially not gods of _living things._ ”

“I know,” Claude says. “No one would even tell me anything about you, or about how things are down here. I really had no choice but to come see for myself.”

He takes a seat. The chair is uncomfortable, and for a moment Claude considers trying to exert his power, trying to make it more amenable to him. But that might seem like a challenge, like an attempt to warp Dimitri's realm and make it his own. So he simply makes himself as comfortable as possible, and does not let a hint of discomfort slip past his smile.

He wonders what _that_ means, too. Whether it means that, truly, Dimitri does not want him here, or if it's more an expression of his discomfort with socialization. After all, this is not a common experience for him.

“Though I don't see why I shouldn't visit. Everything within my realm dies eventually - even the mountains wear away over the passage of time.” He looks at Dimitri, a steady grass-green gaze, the faintest smile on his lips. His voice, however, is quite serious. “Without me, you have no souls to rule over. Without you, the cycle of life I guide is meaningless.”

And though likely Edelgard would not agree, he continues with what he has thought, secretly, since the beginning: “If anyone ought to have leave to visit you as they please, it should be me.”

Dimitri arches an eyebrow at that, as if he isn’t sure what to think of what Claude has said. 

“You act as if I'm some kind of _specimen_ to be observed and then put away again,” he says, abrasive as ever, and it sounds more like an accusation. Dimitri's brow furrows and he leans back in his chair, his legs crossed. “The underworld isn't here for your amusement - or to sate your curiosity. If you're searching for anything but death, you'll be disappointed.”

Claude keeps his smile on his face, his voice light, makes sure to let none of his brief spike of irritation slip through. Because he does feel it - he doesn't like being misread, he doesn't like people assuming the worst of him. But it's happened often enough that he's used to it, and why then should Dimitri be any different? Why should Dimitri see his interest as something good, when no one else has?

“Have I acted like that? If that's the case, then I apologize. I meant to make it clear that I see you as a partner. As a god that I work hand-in-hand with.”

He did try. But perhaps that isn't what Dimitri wants. Perhaps that's why he's reacted so poorly. Perhaps he likes being here alone - or he just doesn't like Claude, and what he represents. It's not so odd for a god to dislike another who represents nearly the antithesis of them. That's never been Claude's way, he sees death as a natural aspect of life, but perhaps Dimitri feels differently.

If that's the case then - well, then that's disappointing. He was curious when he decided to come down here, but now that he's seen Dimitri his curiosity has turned to real interest. He wants to know more about him, his realm, who he is.

“But I'm definitely not disappointed.” And Claude smiles just a little more brightly, a little more honestly. “Your realm is beautiful. It's good to see that the spirits which leave my hands end up somewhere that has been crafted with such thought.”

And that's true, too. For all Claude knew, he would be coming down to a world of pain, torture, misery. Instead - well, it's sad, of course. Those who have committed crimes are clearly facing some kind of justice for them, but isn't that how it should be? Dimitri is not punishing unfairly, and he offers something else to those who have lived their lives well.

It's all that Claude could hope for. And it is beautiful. It's nothing he would have created himself, but it's still beautiful.

Dimitri's resulting silence speaks volumes and he looks at Claude differently, unable to hide his apprehension or confusion - as if this is some kind of trick that he hasn't worked out yet. 

“...you think that it's beautiful?” He looks away then, carefully finding composure after that small slip. “I simply imagine that a god of nature would prefer the company of the sun, or the rain. There is no such presence here.”

Claude laughs. This, at least, he can be utterly honest about. This, he doesn't need to hide.

“I like those things, sure. But I see them all the time. The sun, the rain, even the storm winds - they're beautiful, and they're vital parts of my realm.”

He runs his hand over the arm of the chair. It's spiky and uncomfortable, nothing he can really rest his own arm upon, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful in its own way. There's an artistry to what Dimitri has done here, even if some of it is unconscious. Perhaps that makes it even more beautiful, that he did not intend for the stately, spare elegance of this place.

Claude raises his hand then, gestures at the walls and everything beyond them.

“You've created something, a place that shows your hand in every brick, every stepping stone. Is it so odd that I would find that beautiful?” And he grins, almost teasing now, though his words are sincere. “Ferdinand shines down upon the earth, uncaring of all those who walk upon it. Catherine casts down wind and thunder, laughing as she does so, but she cares little for those who hide from her games. That isn't the case here. I could see it the moment I entered, the whole time I walked behind the spirit that led me here. You care. Of course I would seek out your company, seeing that.”

He likes the other gods well enough. Many of them have realms that border on his - the sun and the rain, as Dimitri mentioned. Animals and hunting and crafts, things that can't exist without the earth and the people who walk on it. It's true that Claude is more a god of the wild places than a god of the cities, but within him are both, and he cares for all of it. Even with the gods who cross over into his realm, he doesn't always think that they feel the same. They focus only on what they are supposed to do, nothing else. None of the boundless curiosity Claude has, that drives him to learn more, that leads him out of his forests and mountains. He hides it with smiles and schemes, but he only does these things because he cares deeply, because he wants to know everything so that he can make himself into a god worthy of the worship he receives.

He thinks that, in his own way, Dimitri cares as well. Why else would he have so meticulously crafted an underworld like this, when he could instead simply gather souls to him and destroy them or pass them on to rebirth?

Dimitri goes still for a moment, still and tense, and Claude cannot read him.

“It's easy to be carefree when people will celebrate you regardless of what you do,” he finally says, cagy and still too stiff. 

Claude understands that. People pray to Dimitri, of course - the last candle lit at a holy gathering is always for the god of death, and he is treated with both fear and reverence in the mortal world - but it's different. They don't throw festivals for him, don't sing their thanks to him, don't love him. It's simple to take that sort of thing for granted when you're something as beautiful as the sun.

“The sky never touches the earth. It's... detached.” There's a pause before Dimitri continues. “But all creatures that walk the earth eventually find their way to me. There is a responsibility in that, and I will not ignore it.”

He pauses, his gaze flickering back up to Claude.

“If you choose to see that as beauty... then perhaps we are somewhat alike.”

Claude smiles, and it's a bit more real now, though he supposes it's likely Dimitri can't tell the difference. That's how he prefers it.

“Of course I do,” he says. “There's beauty in your realm, just as there is in mine.”

And he does genuinely believe that. He's always found the darker parts of his own realm - the predators taking their prey, spiders spinning their webs, flowers that can kill with little effort - just as beautiful and just as natural as the brighter parts. Nature isn't safe, isn't a manicured lawn and a pet rabbit. It's wild and frightening and sometimes shockingly beautiful, and Claude loves it with all of himself.

The land of the dead is not the same, but he can see facets of those same things, that danger and beauty.

“I'd like to see it all - I'd ask you for a tour, but I don't think you'd oblige. I can tell you're not terribly happy I'm here.”

Dimitri has hovered near the edge of rudeness since Claude arrived, and Claude can't really blame him. He might have hoped that Dimitri would be pleased to have someone to talk to, but it's equally true that Claude has trespassed on his domain, that he likely brings too many memories of the world above. The one Dimitri is forbidden to visit.

It's too bad, Claude thinks. That's not a law he's able to break, even if he was willing to bend it far enough to come down himself. But there's something about Dimitri that tugs at his heart a bit - something sad beneath his cold bearing. If Claude were trapped like this, he does not know what would have become of him. Sadness is only the beginning.

“But I'm glad that I was able to meet you. The mortals speak of you with fear and the gods don't speak of you at all. I thought perhaps you might even be a myth. Or a cruel god, one I would be unhappy to see my creatures sent to after their lives have been snuffed out.”

It is indeed a relief to know that isn't the case. He can know that when they leave his hands they go to Dimitri's, and that seems like a rather decent outcome, all things considered.

Dimitri nods stiffly at that. “I'm real,” he tells Claude, dismissive even as he moves to stand, “and many would call me cruel. On that subject... there is the matter of payment for my hospitality.”

Stories from the mortals would have someone believe that Dimitri would claim a soul, a sacrifice for everything he wanted. Others would say that he would resort to trickery, to load the dice and make a bet for something Claude values very dearly. Others still would say that his idea of payment would be a test, a costly burden, just to see someone suffer for his approval.

He could ask for any number of things. Claude knows he is in the lion's den, and no matter his power, no one could match the lord of the dead in the underworld. He could chain Claude here, force him to make fields of grass until his power was exerted, put him to work trying to bring an iota of warmth into this land for Dimitri's wards - the souls of the dead - to enjoy.

But he doesn't. He straightens his gloves and frowns. “By the time Loog found me with your flower, it was black and withered, like everything else here. You will make another before I let you out of this place.”

Claude is - to be honest - utterly charmed.

Perhaps that's an odd thing to feel. Dimitri is demanding something in return for his hospitality, a reminder that Claude is in his power and he can do as he pleases. He's not asking nicely, this is an order, and he's made no attempt to be truly welcoming or friendly since Claude has arrived.

But how can he help but be charmed? This god - this man in front of him could demand anything. Could refuse to let Claude leave, or demand something that he would not want to give. There are all manner of terrible things that Dimitri could ask for, but instead he asks for only this.

A flower.

He is charmed, but also saddened. It's impossible not to wonder how long it's been since Dimitri has seen a flower. Long enough that this is what he asks for, of all things.

“I would make you one that would stay, if I could,” Claude says, “but your power is too strong here.”

Though, in the back of Claude's mind somewhere, now he is thinking - how _would_ he make one that could last? Perhaps if he could weave a bit of Dimitri's power into it... but it would take experimenting, it would take time and practice and it's not something that he could do here and now.

Still. There's the tiniest seed of an idea buried way down deep, waiting to sprout.

“I hope you'll be content with a temporary one.” He smiles and holds out a hand. Dimitri still looks aloof, but there’s a light in his eyes - excitement, maybe. Anticipation. He watches Claude's fingers move as if trying to observe the sleight of hand from a magician's trick. 

This time it's not a lily he draws into life with his power. It's a brilliant yellow chrysanthemum. Still a flower that often symbolizes death, a flower mortals lay on graves - but this one is brimming with color, a bright spot in this dark room. “At least until next time I visit.”

And that's - an offer, a daring one. He doesn't know if Dimitri would allow him to visit again. But how can he not wish to? Dimitri has hundreds of secrets which Claude dearly wishes to know. But more importantly than that, he is alone. He is lonely.

Claude has been lonely too. He knows the ache of it, knows how it can turn your insides to ice. He cannot help but empathize with this cold, serious, lonely man.

Dimitri takes a step closer as if unable to help himself, unable to tear his gaze away from Claude's hands. When he's close enough to Claude that he could lean in and feel his breath, Dimitri stops, hesitant. He lifts a hand - still gloved, as if that could dilute the effect he has - and slowly, as if gentling a small child, curls his fingers forward.

The edge of the petals closest to his hand blacken before he could even hope to touch it, stiffening into dried husks. Dimitri pulls back sharply before he can kill the thing any further and turns his face away.

“Leave it on the table and go.”

His hand rises again, this time toward the door. With a twitch of his fingers, it swings open, showing the outside as if it was somehow the door to the main entrance and did not originally lead back into the hallway.

“Quickly.”

It was only a few petals, so it's easy enough for Claude to pluck them away, coax the flower back into full life. He holds it in gentle hands, holds it close and breathes on it, a soft puff of air. It still won't last - it can't, not unless he held it forever, pressed his power into it every moment. But imbuing it with more of his strength should allow it a few moments more, another handful of minutes.

So long as Dimitri does not touch it.

He places it on the table, still gentle, and then -

Then he goes.

He won't waste Dimitri's time with more chatter. Not when he saw the expression on Dimitri's face the moment his gaze landed on that flower. Claude's presence would only be a distraction, when Claude is certain that what Dimitri really wants is to look at something he hasn't seen in... who knows how long.

Gods don't reckon time in the same way mortals do. A god can lay their head down for a nap and wake up days later, barely noticing the passage of time. (Linhardt has been known to nap for months, easily.) Weeks can pass without acknowledgement, months slip away barely noticed. For the younger gods, like Claude, a year might still mean something - but even he has been known to let one slip through his fingers.

He does not know how long it's been since Dimitri has seen a flower in full bloom, but Claude knows that it was too long. He won't take that from him, won't distract him from it. He slips out of the room and finds his way from the palace easily. At the gate, he graces Loog with a smile and a quiet word of gratitude for fetching his master earlier. Claude traces the path up through the underworld, and he does not look back - except once, right before he passes the first gate.

He looks back at this dark, cold land. Dimitri did not say that he wished to see Claude again, but he also did not forbid Claude from returning. Claude has his duties to attend to - the wilds of nature, the cycle of life and death - but now that he knows the way to Dimitri's realm, he'll be able to return if he wishes.

He wonders if Dimitri will welcome him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in the underworld with nothing else to do, Dimitri waits and hopes for Claude's return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Polochon](https://twitter.com/Pillow_boi) did an [amazing comic](https://twitter.com/Pillow_boi/status/1270149812999073792?s=20) based on a scene from chapter one, thank you so much!! We are speechless!
> 
> [Jill](https://twitter.com/panic_kraken) also drew a gorgeous [god of the underworld](https://twitter.com/panic_kraken/status/1266184514994388994?s=20) fanart inspired by this fic!!! Thank you!!!
> 
> And [Kile](https://twitter.com/postirrer) drew this wonderful interpretation of [Dimitri and Claude as gods!](https://twitter.com/postirrer/status/1266238029338800128?s=20) Thank you so much, they're incredible and you're amazing!!!

In the weeks that pass after Claude's first visit, Dimitri keeps himself busy.

It's difficult to _find_ things to do in the underworld - it isn't as if there are games to play or others to fully interact with. There are the spirits of the dead, but they often cannot see him and instead choose to go about their existence in a quiet repetition of their lives above. Dimitri usually does not bother them and adds further rooms in the castle when more of them pass his gates.

In an ideal world they would want for nothing, but Dimitri is no fool. He knows that the luxuries of his eternal palace are a poor substitute for the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of the grass and fertile earth beneath their feet. Still, they never complain - perhaps there isn't enough left of them _to_ complain. He has long since given up on wishing that there was another way he could provide for them and instead focuses on crafting more rooms, entire lifetimes of small frivolities and places to explore. His materials are stone and fire and he bends them as much as he can to suit the needs of the dead.

As he does so, he thinks about Claude.

He tries not to. He has no guarantee that Claude will visit again, and he knows that he wasn't exactly hospitable last time. Claude has no reason to return to the underworld now that his curiosity about the land and the god here have been sated, but...

Claude came down of his own accord, which no one has ever done. Spoke with him, which no one had dared to do. Treated him as a potential ally, which he didn't think anyone _could_ do. Claude seemed pleased to come down here and listened to Dimitri's demands without arguing and without pity. How could Dimitri's mind not be filled with thoughts of him?

After so long alone, Claude was a burst of life into the monochrome of the abyss, bringing with him his carefree smiles and then - the flower.

The simple beauty of it had drowned out all of Dimitri's creations of the past century, and Claude flicked it into his fingers like it was nothing. If he came back, would he bring another? Would he make something else for him? Dimitri has always hated hoping, he has long since given up on any kind of wish or prayer, but he can’t help _wanting_ to see him again, to look at the gifts he might bring, to talk to someone else...

He regrets now, being cold and standoffish, but how else could he be? He was once the god of Justice and Claude had broken the rules. He hadn't known what to expect then - he still doesn't - and somehow, that uncertainty makes him long for Claude to return and bring clarity down with him.

Someday, he might.

But Dimitri doesn't know when that could be.

So for now, he works. He expands the eternal palace and carves out stone from the earth's core, visits the outer circles and passes judgement - torment, undoing, reincarnation, loneliness - and continues as he always has, down here at the end of all things.

-

The weeks stretch into months, but time flows differently down here. Without anything new to break the monotony, he does what is expected of him and sits in his throne like a statue, allowing time to pass as it always has.

Claude isn’t coming back, he thinks. Dimitri had one chance to reach out for something new, something special, and he let it slip away.

Except… except the doors to the throne room open again and Dimitri sees the familiar dark shape of Loog, bounding toward him and up the dais to the throne. The beast lets out a low rumble, something to tell Dimitri that his presence was needed again.

Twice, so soon? Before Claude, Dimitri’s presence at the gate was almost never needed. He had been called there a time or two when he was still fashioning the rules of it, when he needed to resolve some sort of conflict with the laws he had created - but that hadn’t happened in ages. It could only be one thing, he thinks… it could only be Claude, at his door again.

He steps down from the throne as Loog makes his way up to him, pressing against his leg and circling around him, affectionate and insistent.

“I’m going,” he tells the beast, as if to reassure it that he would not leave Claude - at least, he hopes it’s Claude - waiting in front of his gate. As Dimitri makes his way toward the door of his throne room, he straightens his shoulders, his power falling from him in waves, shifting his clothing to create an outfit more appropriate for greeting a guest.

He dresses slightly more casually than he had in the first meeting - instead of full plating, he summons light armor over his hips, shoulders and chest, with his pants tucked into heavy boots and the same cloak over his shoulders. Like last time, he's covered from head to toe, still on the defensive, but... perhaps slightly less so.

He doesn’t know what to expect, after all.

Dimitri finds himself before the gate with Loog at his heel and he takes a deep breath before flicking his fingers to open it with a mighty creak, and seeing - him.

Claude is dressed similarly to how he looked last time: barefoot, in loose fitting clothes, too bright and cheerful for the dourness of the underworld. Looped under his elbow is a tightly woven reed basket with a secured lid with no hint as to what may be inside. Dimitri is momentarily surprised that the underworld had not corroded it yet, but in all fairness the lacquered reeds that made up the basket had been dead for some time.

He looks… like Dimitri remembers, which is to say, like how he imagines people up above look. His face is still bright from the sun, still flushed from the wind beating against his cheeks, still pleased from all the sensations up above.

Dimitri bites back a sting of jealousy and inclines his head.

“You've returned. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

He manages to keep the emotion out of his voice, but only just. Dimitri steps aside and allows Claude to enter and offers a glance at the waiting spirits before motioning them forward as well, his other hand tangled in Loog's brilliant mane, as if to stop his pet from terrorizing the poor souls after they've been so patient.

Claude smiles at him, an expression which Dimitri does not return.

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to,” he offers - which is fair, given how Dimitri last treated him, “I've brought you something, but it's probably better if I show you inside. I don't want to startle any of your spirits.”

He isn't sure what to make of that. What could Claude have brought that might startle one of the spirits? Loog hadn't been able to smell anything, but that hardly means much - Dimitri's gaze shifts to the basket that Claude is carrying with some curiosity and for a moment he considers pressing the issue and making Claude show it to him now, but he decides against it. 

Dimitri doesn't respond to Claude's first comment, in part because he doesn't know how to. It's difficult to even admit to himself that he wanted Claude to come back. For awhile, he'd forbidden himself from thinking the words, but now that Claude is here and it's impossible for him to be disappointed, he's left with the smattering of a realization that he's _happy_ that Claude is back. Even if it's just for an afternoon.

It's difficult to navigate his feelings or even know how to act around someone when it's been so long since he's last had a real conversation. He feels stunted, unsure of himself - which is most unbecoming of a god such as him - and so he frowns, motioning Claude back up to the palace.

“Very well.”

He leads Claude inside and it's the same hallway as before. This time, he doesn't ask what Claude wants from this place and decides for himself, opening up another door and stepping through.

The scenery is vastly different from their previous sitting room - this room is _massive_ , stretching on far into the darkness, with a cavernous stone floor and walls that vault so high up that it's difficult to make out the ceiling among the shadows. There are benches inside, as if it's some kind of park, and when Dimitri waves his hand, a few lanterns sputter into life around them, lighting the area.

There are a few sparse shadows around them, stone pillars which are twisted and uneven, fracturing near the top into dozens of smaller stone tendrils, the very tips of which seem to hold sparkling ore and gemstones. They look vaguely as if someone with limited recollection of what a tree looked like had tried to create one with limited tools and resources.

Something, maybe, to remind Claude of home. Something - _welcoming_? Maybe? He doesn't know. He feels foolish now for calling on this room when he hadn't perfected the look of the branches quite yet, but they're here now and so he quickly motions Claude toward one of the benches.

“In here. The dead have their own wing of the palace.”

Claude looks around with obvious interest and a certain amount of wonder, his eyes alight with curiosity.

“This is amazing,” he says and it’s so simple that it almost doesn't seem like a compliment, merely an expression of fact. Before he does anything else though, he turns to Dimitri, and holds out the basket.

It's woven of dried reeds, dead for some time now. Dimitri cannot damage it - he might even be able to keep it, as some kind of reminder of the plants above.

“I told Ferdinand I wanted something to chase away the darkness in one of the caves, so I could try to grow something new there. He gave me a bit of his sunlight.” Claude smiles like it’s nothing, offering it over as if it were just an everyday gift, “It won't last long once you open it, so I'll leave it to you to decide when to do so.”

Dimitri’s heart grows still with the realization and his gloved hand freezes against Claude’s own on the handle of the basket. He wants, more than anything, to rip off the lid and press his hand inside, to _feel_ it against his fingers and see the untamed brightness of it. He wants impulsively, to spend it all up feeling every tiny fragment of warmth on his skin, to hold it between them both and see the shade of Claude's eyes in the sunlight.

He doesn't, of course. It's far too special to spend it right away, it may be too special to spend it _ever_ , but that isn't important. What's important is that Claude brought this down to him, tricked the god of the sun to bring this impossible, incredible gift down to the underworld for him. Just for him.

If it's a bribe, a flattery, then he doesn't care. He'll tell Claude anything, show him whatever he wants for _this_.

Claude lets go of the basket and Dimitri holds it for a long time, doesn't respond or even turn away - still stunned by what it contains, how he could use it, and what a precious thing it is. He can't stop himself from being deeply moved, from emotion clutching at his chest and drawing it tight into a fist.

He steps away from Claude abruptly, holding the basket with a tender care, as if it's the most precious treasure in the world. He looks down at the lid of it and can feel his heart thudding in his chest. The sun. The _sun_.

Could it illuminate the depths of this room? It was yellower than the fires he uses, he remembers, it wasn't as hot against your skin, but it lit up the entire sky. Could he keep it? Could he trap it somehow in a transparent cage, to be able to look on it where it won't fade away?

There's too many questions, too many things he has to figure out, too many pieces of his heart he has to fully sift through before he can even think about opening it, but this... this is the greatest thing he's ever been given.

“...why?” he finally asks, his voice soft. He's still not looking at Claude. He's not sure if he _can_. “Why would you do this for me?”

“I thought you'd like it.”

Claude says it so simply that it’s almost impossible to believe, so casual that Dimitri doesn’t understand what to make of it.

“We take things like this for granted, up above,” he clarifies, a smile in his voice even though Dimitri isn’t looking at him. “But you don't. Maybe that means you deserve it more than any of us…. Anyway, you've let me come down here twice now, when we both know I'm not allowed. Think of it as a thank you gift, if that helps.”

The explanation seems so childish, like it's something done purely out of the goodness of his heart. Dimitri doesn't know if that's true - most gods he's known have have a darkness inside of them, with altruism and empathy being rare traits that seemed even rarer as time went on.

But this... if Claude truly wishes to just _give_ this to him, then he won't question it. How could he? He'd do anything for the handful of sunshine stored within this box, any catch that Claude might try to attach to it would be worth it.

“...I see.”

He still doesn't quite turn back. He wants to pull it close to his chest and never let it go, but he thinks that it would be awkward to carry it with him while Claude is visiting - more to the point, he wants to keep it as safe as he can until he decides to use it, which means storing it as soon as he's able.

Dimitri struggles to regain his composure after the initial excitement and wave of emotion that is still crashing through him. It's more difficult than it seems, but eventually he can hold his head high and look back toward Claude with a small nod.

“I'll store this in a safe place. Then…” He owes him. Even if it was simply a thoughtful gift, he owes him the world, and when he recalls what Claude said last time he was here, Dimitri knows how he could repay him. “...you wanted to see more of the underworld?”

“I'd love to.” Claude smiles knowingly, nodding toward the basket in Dimitri’s hands, “I can wait while you put that away, if you don't mind me wandering around a bit.”

Dimitri nods, grateful for the opportunity to pull himself together. And while he's not sure if he entirely trusts Claude, he doesn't think there's anything that Claude could do that would diminish what he's already done.

“You shouldn't leave this room,” he tells him, though it isn't a difficult order to follow, as the room is still massive, interesting enough to walk through. “You'd get lost in the palace without me. Wouldn't want you falling into the eternal flames.”

There is the smallest spark of dark humor and amusement in his tone. While such a fate is certainly _possible_ , Claude should be fine as long as he doesn't wander outside of the room. The rest of the palace obeys Dimitri's every whim, and even - to some degree - the whims of the dead, but he genuinely doesn't know what would happen if someone without power over it tried to go exploring. An endless hallway? A door that opens into nothingness? A floor that gives way to the flames?

No one has been around here to try. As interesting as the idea is, he doesn't want to put Claude in danger just to sate a bit of curiosity.

Dimitri tucks out of the room then, closing the door behind him and leaving Claude inside. He takes care to keep the room properly functional, lest he somehow accidentally crush Claude into the liminal space of the underworld, and moves just across the hall where he summons another door, this one to his personal quarters.

With the door closed behind him, he presses his back against it with a sharp exhale, clinging tightly to the basket. He lifts it, eyeing the fastenings that keep the lid on, and thinks - _I just need to see if it's real._

It isn't necessarily that he thinks Claude would lie about this, insomuch as that it feels too good to be true. Too beautiful of a gift, too impossible for someone to have brought it to him. He wants badly to throw the lid off and bask in it, but he doesn't. Carefully, as careful as if he were dealing with the most breakable of glass, Dimitri eases up the very corner of the basket, holding it close to his face to just catch the tiniest glimpse of what could be inside.

The opening is barely the size of the head of a pin, but all he can see is _bright_ , all he can feel is a hint of warmth on his cheekbone.

He closes it quickly, his heart pounding. He clutches the basket to his chest and presses his back against the door as his legs give out from under him, sliding down, down, down, until he's sitting on the floor, trembling with the knowledge of what he's just seen, wetness staining at his lashes.

Claude is waiting for him, he knows, but he feels frozen, overcome with emotion that threatens to take him away entirely. The palace groans around him, fire in the lanterns and braziers flaring upward and roaring in an emotional pitch of light and heat, before simmering back down as he wrestles to lock everything away.

This... this is something that he can experience later. When he doesn't have visitors and can decide how best to utilize it. Until then, he needs to put it away, somewhere special and safe, and regain control of himself. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually moves to stand again, breathing deeply and storing the basket carefully on a shelf beside his bed. He ensures that he looks alright, with no hint of what he'd been doing prior, straightens his clothing and armor, and moves back into the hallway.

The door to his quarters vanishes into the wall when he's closed it and Dimitri keeps his shoulders straight as he goes back into the room he'd left Claude in, composed as he was the day they met.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Claude smiles at him, a little further back in the room and Dimitri knows that he’s been looking around. He’s curious enough, he would have wanted to explore, and Dimitri knows that the intricacy of the carvings around the room would have piqued his curiosity.

“Oh yes,” Claude tells him, moving back for the main entrance where he’s standing, as if Dimitri hadn’t excused himself at all, as if the firelight hadn’t flared with Dimitri’s emotional reaction just a few moments ago. “You have an artistic soul, my lord.”

This compliment is just as bizarre as the others that Claude has paid him and Dimitri arches an eyebrow at that, before glancing around the room as if to see what he could be referring to. The trees? The walls? None of it seems _artistic_ to him - though maybe art has changed up there on the surface since he's been gone.

“The dead seem to prefer to relive their experiences,” he finally explains slowly, folding his arms and looking toward the nearest pillar, “they are... simple things. Not as sentient as they were in their life.”

He starts to move then, back toward the hall. He's not sure how much of a tour he can give Claude, what Claude would even be interested in or want to see, but in the hall there is endless possibility. With the door closed behind them, Dimitri starts to walk down the long hallway, ensuring that Claude is behind him as he does.

“I can't make them trees or grass, or give them animals to herd, but I can create... replicas. From what I remember.” There's a pause, before he shrugs dismissively, as if it's nothing. “It suits them well enough.”

They reach a set of wide double doors, and he wraps both hands around the handles before throwing them open. Before them is a wide ballroom, decorated lavishly with gold leafing and crystal chandeliers. The floor is a polished marble, with stones inlaid in a mosaic pattern on the ceiling - a depiction of the night sky - with glittering obsidian and white flecks of crystal to represent the stars.

The tables and chairs on the sides have empty silver platters where there might have been food and drink, the windows have dark curtains over them, blocking the view of the stone outside. All in all, it's a lavish and painstaking recreation.

There are spirits in this room where there had not been in any other rooms that Dimitri has led Claude through so far. There are dozens and dozens of them: soft, pale wraiths who nod together as if speaking without making a sound, reach for food which isn't there and mime eating, and dance together in sweeping strokes across the ballroom without music.

When the doors are opened fully, all of the movement stops. The spirits all look to them - their god and someone else with him - and freeze like rabbits before a predator.

“We're not here,” Dimitri whispers and then it's true to them. They turn back to one another and continue speaking, eating, dancing. Dimitri looks back toward Claude, unable to stop a small bit of his pride from showing on his face.

“I don't know about artistic, but I use what the underworld gives me: stone, minerals, fire. If I can create something from that, this palace will put it wherever they might want.”

Claude doesn’t answer him right away. His eyes are fixated on the ceiling, and he seems breathless with wonder as he looks above, tilting his head to recognize the various constellations that Dimitri had hung in crystals. 

His smile is faint, like he doesn’t even realize that he’s smiling, and Dimitri knows that he has only allowed Claude this far because of the tremendous gift that he’s been given, and yet - and yet, a small part of him finds himself charmed by that absent smile, the expression that isn’t performative or polite, just… pleased.

It’s been a long while since Dimitri felt anything like that. Being able to give it to someone else is new, and he finds that he doesn’t dislike it.

“Incredible,” Claude finally tells him, turning to Dimitri and looking at him instead.

He stares at Dimitri in the same way that he stared at the ceiling, like he sees something beautiful there which is unfolding in front of him, like he somehow understands some small part of him - and shouldn’t he? Dimitri may not have intended to originally, but he knows that there is a part of himself in his creations: his compassion for the spirits in his care, his longing for the sky. The hall is beautiful and full of spirits and yet somehow one of the loneliest places in the eternal palace.

Claude finally grins at him, his good humor easing the tension between them.

“I'd ask you to dance, but I think you'd say no.”

Dimitri finds himself taken aback by the forwardness of the proposal and looks back out over the room without an answer.

Claude is constantly surprising him, it seems. Maybe that's to be expected from something as unpredictable as nature, but Dimitri can't help but to feel constantly thrown off of his guard every time they interact. He should probably just start expecting Claude to say the craziest things, but even when he thinks that Claude will say something incredible, he's sent off balance again by how blatant he can be.

It _has_ been a long time since he's had a friend. An ally. Since he's really had much social contact at all, and Claude - Claude is more than anything he could have asked for.

He thinks about saying yes, he really does. But it would be unbecoming of him, and besides, he - he wouldn't want to embarrass himself. So he makes do with the smallest of smiles that tug at the corner of his mouth and folds his arms across his chest, observing the odd rituals of the dead without coming close enough to be considered a participant.

“Would I?”

He shouldn't play these games. Dimitri doesn't need to look at Claude to know that they're dangerous, he can feel it in his smile, his kindness, the magnetic pull of him that he tells himself is just loneliness, just needing someone else.

But he can't help it. He's always been the type of god to poke at a sleeping beast, just to see what would happen.

Look where it's gotten him.

“There's no music,” is what he finally amends with, as if that would stop them. He looks back toward the spirits, a hair too fondly to be a casual observer, “they're imagining it, I'm certain. What it might sound like."

Without reeds and catgut - without well-fashioned wood - the kind of music that would echo in these halls can't be found here. It doesn't matter, the spirits don't seem to care, but Dimitri notices, like he notices everything else.

After a moment he shakes his head, as if breaking himself from that train of thought.

“...there are many places like this. I don't know what you'd be interested in seeing.”

To his credit, Claude takes it well and while his grin fades into one of his regular smiles, it does not disappear entirely.

“I'd like to see your favorite places,” he tells him then, nodding, “is there anything here that you’ve made just for yourself?”

Dimitri isn't sure if he has any favorite places. Most of them are like this: still, quiet, more for the spirits around him than it is for him. He watches as they dance and regrets, for a moment, not taking Claude up on his lighthearted request.

He imagines how it might feel: his hand at Claude's waist, guiding him in the gentle steps of the dance, slipping across the ballroom between the souls of the dead, his makeshift stars above them both. But it - he - he can't remember the last time he danced, even when he lived above. His ensemble had always dealt in more armor and weaponry than waistcoats and champagne glasses, and while his position here has taught him a great deal of refinement and casual elegance, he's still pointlessly out of his depths when it comes to sharing that with someone else.

And so, he makes no move. Says nothing.

He wonders if he'll regret it later.

“For my own pleasure, you mean?” It's an odd question, and one that he has to mull over a bit, as if he genuinely doesn't know. _Is_ there anything that he's created just because he wanted to? Something to comfort him, something that he enjoys visiting more than anything else?

He frowns.

“...Loog. He isn't alive - not like your lions - but I created him from myself. To stay with me.”

Which... sounds painfully lonely, and it _was_ , but isn't something that he particularly wants Claude to feel about him. Lonely enough to cut out a piece of himself and shape it into something, anything that would look at him, touch him, not be afraid of him.

It's probably the creation he's most proud of, in the end. It's definitely the one that he's taken the most comfort from. That isn't exactly what Claude had asked, but it's the closest thing he has.

“Otherwise... my quarters. The throne room. My workshop.” He lists them off quietly. These aren't places he necessarily takes solace in, and he'd be hard pressed to list any sort of _favorites_ , but they are the rooms for him alone. “The -”

\- he cuts himself off there, distracted enough with listing things off that he hadn't considered whether or not he wants to go there. The final room is an archive of sorts - if it could be called that. Dimitri created it once with the mind that he would preserve his knowledge of the world and his history, so that he could come back to it and draw on it for inspiration, but it had proven too painful to visit often, in the end.

He doesn't want Claude to see it. Not when things are like this, not when he doesn't know how Claude could react.

“On the way to the workshop, there is an underground lake,” he says instead, “I think you might like it.”

“A lake?” Claude lifts his eyebrow, looking out to the dancing spirits again, to the star-like gems glittering above them. “I’d love to see it. And your workshop as well. Oh, and - that reminds me. Does Loog eat? I thought of bringing him a fish, but I wasn't sure he'd want it - or be able to eat it, if he did.”

There’s a pause, before Claude adds brightly:

“If he can, I'll bring one next time.”

Next time.

Dimitri doesn't react visibly to the careful allusion that Claude might come back, but his heart thuds heavy in his chest at the thought of it. If Claude came back again - maybe he'd come back sooner? Maybe he'd bring something else? - then Dimitri would have something to look forward to. Someone to talk to again.

He doesn't know how to say all of that, and so he simply nods, reorganizing his thoughts once again around this idea that Claude is cultivating an alliance of sorts. A _partnership_ , as he'd said. If he comes down again... well, maybe Dimitri can find something to give to him next time.

As soon as the thought strikes him, it sounds silly. What could Claude possibly want from the underworld? It is cold and dead here, with nothing that Claude could not just as easily obtain somewhere else. But then... he's clearly visiting for some reason.

“He doesn't need to eat, but... I think he can. He never has before.”

It's not like there's prey down here - and even if bugs or fish might have ordinarily lived in a cavern like this, they cannot live in the underworld. Anything that crosses the border feels the pull of death and subsequently expires before it could ever make it to the heart of this place.

So, Loog has never hunted. Never used his sharp teeth and claws for anything other than intimidating souls at the gates.

They move out of the ballroom and away from the silent ghosts that celebrate throughout it. He takes them through another hallway, through a narrower corridor, as if he knows exactly where he's going and the palace _doesn't_ somehow respond to his whims to put him where he wants to be.

Dimitri makes another turn and opens another set of doors, these ones leading outside, but not entirely outside. There are still supporting beams that cross over their heads, a strange pillar here and there, as if this section of the castle was built into the rock... because this is clearly a natural cavern, for the most part.

A river flows through it, alongside the path that Dimitri leads Claude along, and when the ground drops away into a yawning chasm, with a staircase carved into the rock, the river flows over the edge into a trickling waterfall. The staircase descends underneath it, a hundred feet below the previous level, until they finally find the ground again, where the water from above falls and pools into a beautifully clear lake.

There is no algae, no small fish or tadpoles, no grime to be had. Embers from the fires reflect in it, spilling blue-green waves of light at the walls around them both. The lake is so impossibly clear that it's difficult to tell just how deep it is - it could be three feet or three hundred, with the clarity of which one could see every rock and glittering gemstone at the bottom.

The staircase leads onto another trail, which leads to a door laid inside of the cliff wall, but Dimitri pauses there to look over the lake, his expression unreadable.

“I didn't make this,” he says quietly, before Claude can say something else about _beauty_ or artistry, “it already existed back then. I merely cleared it out after everything had died. It's been like this ever since.”

Claude doesn’t seem at all bothered by the admission and turns to him with a sharp grin.

“It's perfect. Would you care for a swim, Your Mournfulness?”

By now, he's used to Claude's... odd commentary on things, his strange requests, his bizarre compliments - but this is something else. This is both Claude giving him some kind of silly nickname (which he can't say he's too fond of, but that gets tucked aside for the moment) _and_ suggesting that they simply dive right into the pool and go swimming.

Is he being serious? It's hard to say, when he's smiling like that. Dimitri stares at him for a moment, as if he could figure out the truth of Claude's words, but the lingering smile and the light in his eyes only make him more confused, and when he imagines it...

He can feel heat rising to his cheeks, which he tells himself is just the indignity of being called something so ridiculous, but it's there all the same and Dimitri has to turn away quickly at a sheepish attempt at hiding the flush.

“I don't... think that would be appropriate.”

He finally says, but then thinks back to the ballroom, Claude's hands, the tinge of regret he already feels at denying that closeness, the ability to just look at him.

He thinks he wants to. He thinks he wants to watch Claude move when Claude isn't watching him back, when Claude isn't _observing_ him. Dimitri wants to see him, to truly take him in without a sly comment, wants to try to understand this strange god who waltzed into the underworld and proceeded to upend Dimitri's entire existence here.

So if Claude wants to dive in, who is he to stop him? If Claude wants to enjoy himself here, why shouldn't Dimitri let him? He brought him the _sun_ , after all - surely he's owed a bit of indulgence.

“...but I'll sit next to the shore if you want to splash around.”

They both win, he thinks. Claude gets to do whatever it is he wants to do in there and Dimitri can watch him, can ponder over why he's here, how he can be like this - and they can simply spend time in one another's company.

“Hmm,” Claude thinks theatrically while eyeing Dimitri as if the offer was some kind of trick to call his bluff. “...I am a little dusty from the walk down here, a quick dip would be nice.”

And Claude hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt and pulls it off.

Dimitri isn’t sure what he expected - if he really thought that Claude would simply agree, get his kit off, and dive in. Clearly, he anticipated this somehow or else he wouldn't have suggested it, but Claude's easy agreement makes him pause and then when he tugs his shirt off like it's nothing, Dimitri doesn't quite know where to look.

Mortals all have some sort of stigma about undressing, as if they're ashamed of their naked forms. Gods have never had such odd behaviors: bodies are natural, their truest selves, and while there can at times be an allure of sexuality to them, beings like Dimitri and Claude simply aren't made to treat their forms as something to be conscientious about. All gods are perfectly molded, after all.

Particularly, he notices without meaning to, Claude.

He drops his shirt on the stone and without a backward glance at Dimitri shucks off his pants as well, unashamed and without a stitch of clothing. Dimitri notices, without really trying, that his otherwise-perfect skin is marred by a few small scars.

Though gods cannot be hurt by mortal means, they can be harmed by other gods - Dimitri knows that all too well, but Claude doesn’t seem to be ashamed of them and displays them proudly: a thin silver line down his shoulder, a small raised scar as if an arrow pierced his side. A few others here and there, hardly remarkable. The rest of him is unmarked, as smooth and perfect as only a god can be.

Claude doesn’t seem to notice Dimitri’s staring and instead steps into the water, walking deeper until he can duck his head into the icy depths.

He comes up laughing.

“Oh, that's nice. Refreshing.”

Dimitri swallows hard.

“Is it?”

He doesn't ogle or stare at him, but he does tilt his head as Claude laughs, his hair slicked back by the water. He seems so carefree, so happy, as if he's just living in this moment with nothing else that he could be thinking of - just happy to be here, diving into lakes in the middle of the underworld, with the god of the dead.

The thought makes him smile, just a brief one, and he moves to a large stone resting beside the lake, one that's perfect height for him to sit on. Once he's resting back, he turns his gaze back toward Claude, appreciative, pleased to see that he's enjoying it.

“There's a dropoff near you,” he tells him idly, pointing in the direction of it, “into a river that stretches underground and feeds into another cave.”

All he has to fill the silence are facts, he thinks - about the underworld, about what he does. Dimitri supposes that that's why Claude came down here, because he wanted to know these things, but that doesn't stop Dimitri from wishing he was a better conversationalist. Everything he says feels stilted, awkward.

But he wants to see Claude smile again, to hear him laugh, and - maybe - to surprise him, just a little and so Dimitri slowly reaches down and undoes the upper lacing of one heavy boot, and then the next. The process is slow, methodical, and he sets his shoes next to him before stripping out of his socks and rolling up the hem of his heavy pant leg.

“When I'm stuck on something in the workshop, I'll sit here,” he explains, sitting back up and looking up toward the high ceiling of the cave. “If I have a favorite place in the underworld, I suppose this would be it.”

And with that, he dips his feet into the lake, down slightly past his ankles. The water is cold, but he knew it would be from experience. It feels - nice, peaceful even, to share this with Claude. This place of solitude that's now become a place to spend time together, to grow the beginnings of a companionship... he likes it. He likes it so much that he's still smiling absently, faintly, as he looks over the water.

“You have a nice smile,” Claude tells him, a simple compliment that makes Dimitri want to turn away and flush, caught off guard again. He doesn’t, but his face goes carefully blank instead and Claude sighs in response, flicking a bit of water at Dimitri’s knees.

“Are you sure you don't want to come in with me?”

Dimitri wrinkles his nose and shakes his head _no_ at the question. It would be easy, part of him thinks, to just lift up and slide into the water, let it damp his hair, tangle together with Claude in the weightlessness of the lake. It would be easy to let Claude charm him the way he's so insistent on doing, with his compliments and his quiet suggestions.

And he _is_ charming. Dimitri can see that in the shape of his jaw, the well-worn edges of his fingers, the easy way he carries his power. It would be easy to get swept up in such a thing, and when Claude looks away, he lets himself imagine it for a fraction of a second.

But what would he do? What could _they_ do, in the end? Claude might have come down here for some odd kind of companionship, he might be curious and invested in Dimitri's realm down here, but he is still a creature of the earth and Dimitri is - well.

He could never visit Claude's domain the way that Claude visits his. He could never fashion a gift for him that would mean a fraction as much as what Claude has already brought down here. He could never walk next him or be beside him in the open, for fear of retaliation from the sky.

Claude could be his entire life down here, if he lets him. Dimitri could never be more than just another facet of Claude's worldly existence. A place to go, a secret to keep, in between all of his other friends and relationships in the world above.

That thought terrifies him more than it should and Dimitri sighs, kicking his feet gently through the water.

“You've been in a battle,” is what he finally says, deflecting Claude's request and his compliment all in one, replacing it with his careful distance and observation.

He'd noticed the scars - how could he not? They glistened silvery-white on his skin, marks that Dimitri recognized from the imprints they made on his own. Most of the gentler gods preferred not to fight, would preach harmony and acceptance to all those who would listen. Before seeing Claude's scars, he'd have imagined that he was like that too, but they don't exactly surprise him.

“What happened?”

“A story from long ago.” Claude’s smile is more careful now, more guarded, “Or a lot of stories, really. I'm sure you have plenty of your own.”

And his smile turns speculative, thoughtful as he turns his eyes up toward Dimitri again, treading water easily, far enough away to almost make the situation look casual to an onlooker. And then, Claude offers -

“I'll share my stories if you share yours.”

It's an interesting offer - and he's curious, now that Claude is playing a bit coy with him. Dimitri tips his head down toward Claude's figure in the lake, mulling it over a bit.

In truth, none of his history is a secret. There's nothing he's been forbidden to say or tell others (because who would he tell? he thinks, but that's beside the point), and everyone knows what happened anyway. Everyone except the new order of gods, he supposes.

The real reason that he would shy away is that the past is painful. Too many stories - there's so much bad blood, so many things that they'd done to one another, and he's sure that Claude is no different - but to him in particular, they still cut deep. The mistakes he'd made, the pointless battles he'd fought. _Losing._

But what does he have to lose now? It isn't like Claude will retract his friendship if he says something he doesn't like. At least, he hopes he won’t.

“...alright.”

It's a quiet agreement and Dimitri is still for a moment before lifting his hand up to tug aside the stiff collar of his shirt, pulling until it's flush with the light armor he's wearing. From his collarbone to the curve of his throat is a thin scar, an old one, bright against his pale skin.

He lets his hand drop a moment later, his shirt slipping back into place and leans forward, recalling.

“...I was born in the beginning, when the first of the mortals longed for vengeance at the pain that others had brought them. I didn't know why I was there or what I was, I just wandered the land, going to where I felt the pull of that sorrowful rage and doing my work there.”

The 'work' involved that vengeance, is the implication: that he did what he felt was right, what the humans called on him to do. Somewhere along the line, vengeance became Justice - or maybe they were always interwoven, two sides of the same coin. Who could tell? This was before there was language to describe what he was anyway.

“We didn't know one another at first,” he admits, and his tone goes a little quieter here as he thinks about it - _her_ , “I'd never met anyone like me. We…”

Dimitri finds himself giving a twitch of another smile, but this one is wistful, sad. 

“We were animals then. We didn't know anything. We thought we were untouchable because the mortals' primitive tools couldn't scratch us. So we fought like beasts over territory and illuminated the entire sky. She gave me this.”

He brushes his thumb over his collar again, shaking his head.

“There's a matching one on her ribs.”

Claude considers that, listening quietly as Dimitri recounts the story, craning his neck to see the scar. There’s no judgement in his gaze and after a moment, he swims back toward the shore, climbing out, but doesn’t make a move to dress quite yet.

Instead, he slips closer, peering at the scar, and Dimitri wonders what he’s thinking about - does he think that Dimitri has always been a warmonger? That his violence deserved such an end?

After a moment Claude smiles and pulls back, tipping his head while Dimitri moves to reach for his shoes.

“I was born elsewhere. I came here when those who needed me did, and I've changed since I came - but before, I wasn't well-loved.” Claude smiles, but this time it seems bitter and Dimitri doesn’t know why. Claude's fingers brush the arrow-scar on his skin, just for a moment.

“I suppose I can't blame them. I was always getting into trouble. Long ago, I gazed down from the moonlit sky and I saw people huddled together, shivering in the darkness. It seemed silly, so,“ he shrugs, “I stole fire from the god of the sun, the king of the gods there. He saw me flee and shot an arrow that caught me. Right here.”

Claude laughs quietly, but it sounds hollow.

“But I didn't drop what I stole, and from then on the other gods were angry that I'd shared some of their glory with the mortals. I suppose that was just the beginning of the trouble I caused them. But…” He shrugs again, grinning now, “they deserved it.”

As he listens to the story he watches Claude's face, but Dimitri can't help to look where he points, his gaze lingering at the notched scar of an arrow on his damp skin. He watches how the water collects on the curve of Claude's muscle and the sensual way it drips down, gathering up more small droplets until it drips in a rivulet down to the ground.

The story is something else entirely though and he lifts an eyebrow, resisting the urge to reach for him, to try and help him dry by collecting the water in the fabric of his gloves.

So, Claude was something of a trickster god. Mischievous, but for a cause he thought was just, and he'd suffered for it. It suits him, Dimitri thinks. It suits everything he's known about Claude so far: daring enough to come down here, compassionate enough to notice Dimitri's care for the dead, careless enough to strip naked and jump into an underground lake.

“You seem to make it a habit of stealing the sun,” is what he offers, noting Claude's closeness, his nudity, and realizes - there aren't any towels or anything down here. Dimitri moves to stand slowly, feeling a bit awkward as he reaches for the clasp at his collar and unlatches his cloak. It billows around his arms as he moves to pull it off of him and offers it out to Claude.

It's heavy, dark, and warm. Without it, Dimitri knows he looks smaller, less naturally intimidating - not that Claude has been intimidated by him yet.

“Hey, I _traded_ for it this time,” Claude argues, but he grins at Dimitri with impish amusement as he takes the cloak. He tugs it around himself, more for warmth than to cover his nakedness, and Dimitri shakes his head, amused despite himself.

“I don't know of many gods who would do that for humans. Most of them seem to prefer being... detached.”

“I like humans,” Claude says, wrinkling his nose. Dimitri suspects that Claude likes most living things - it certainly seems to fit his personality. “They're clever and creative, and they're awfully tenacious given how short their lives are. We have no choice but to be detached in some way... in truth, I should have little to do with them - they mostly live in cities now, where I'm not entirely welcome. But they make us who we are. It seems foolish to forget that.”

He looks up at Dimitri, his expression faded again, and what he says next is surprisingly honest:

“I don't think you've forgotten.”

Seeing Claude wearing his clothing is a strange sensation and so Dimitri turns away, his mouth crooked back into a frown.

“It would be hard for me to forget.”

He has more contact with humanity than... well, most of the gods, maybe all of them. Humans give gods their power, more or less, be it through worship or the creation of concepts that they all give belief to. Whether it's music, the forge, or the heavens, the sentiment gave them power.

Dimitri took power from justice once, a drive for a just world and the order that comes with that. Here in the underworld, he now derives his essence from death... and you can't have death without life, without humans. The gods can forget their charges because they don't have the responsibility to tend to them as Dimitri does.

At least, that's his charitable interpretation.

“Anyway, you give me too much credit. I simply owe them a debt.” Dimitri doesn't clarify any further. Does he need to? 

It's rare, if not impossible, for a god to experience the kind of conversion that Dimitri has, with no resemblance to the kind of power he used to carry. One could argue that Justice has been molded into Judgement - and one would likely be correct - but when he was dying, that didn't matter to him. When he was buried in the depths of the earth, stripped of his power and unconscious for years, that kind of shift wasn't exactly on the forefront of his mind.

It was only through the souls of the dead that the concept of death was immortalized and therefore fed into him. There had been no god of death previously, no afterlife, but due to the meddling of the other gods, the tenacity of his followers, the hope of the mortals there on earth, he'd been reborn.

The oldest and the newest god in the parthenon.

Well - until the new order came around, and Claude with it.

“Are you warm enough?” He asks suddenly, to prevent any further questions to that subject, and he reaches out to straighten the collar of his coat where Claude has a piece folded over, the back of his gloved thumb accidentally brushing against Claude's cheek as he does so. “I can make the fires hotter if that would help.”

Claude suppresses what might be a shiver but it’s due to the cold, Dimitri is sure of it because afterward he goes tense and straightens, pulling the cloak tighter. 

“I'm warm enough. Don't worry.” He pulls away to reach for his pants and tug them back on, though he merely picks up his shirt and carries it with him underneath the cloak. “Weren’t you going to show me your workshop? You make beautiful things. I'd like to see where they come from.”

Dimitri nods and lingers a second too long, his eye on the chill that brings out the pinkness of Claude's mouth.

He looks away.

“It's right here.”

Dimitri moves to sit back down at the stone and reaches for his shoes and socks again, reapplying them. The process takes a short time, as he needs to lace up his boots once more, but it gives Claude enough time to dry off a bit more, and when Dimitri is further away from him, fingers working over the leather of his boots, he can take a moment to breathe and clear his mind of thoughts of Claude's skin.

With a sigh, Dimitri moves to stand again after he's put back together, straight-backed as he motions for the door leading into the stone wall of the cliff. When he pulls it open, it gives way to a yawning room, sweltering with heat from the fire that flares up from a circular hole cut into the ground at the center of the room.

The rest of the workshop has materials - pillars of stone, jagged spikes of crystal, entire swathes of marble - but no crude stonecutting tools. He doesn't need them, not when the materials respond to his very will.

There is well-worked armor and weapons in the racks near the flame, and though Dimitri is hardly the god of smithing, it's ornate and detailed.

“The earth gives me what I need,” he explains, flicking his fingers over a desk cut from the dark stone. The stone shifts under his hand like water, rippling and stretching backward, until something green and bright pokes through to the surface. Dimitri reaches for it and plucks the perfect emerald from the desk and offers it to Claude.

The jewel is about the size of a fingernail, perfectly faceted, the shade of Claude's eyes, and he offers it to Claude as if it were just another stone. To him, it might as well be.

“Pure materials, I can simply take and shape how I please. Iron and manufactured things, I make myself.”

Claude steps close, reaches out to take the jewel, his bare fingers brushing Dimitri's gloved hand.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, turning the emerald around in his fingers, admiring it for a moment. He looks up at Dimitri and smiles.

“I'd like to watch you make something sometime, if it wouldn't be too much of a distraction.”

Dimitri watches Claude's reaction to the stone, devoid of any pride. This isn't something he's worked on or put together, it's merely another facet of his power and so he sees no reason to take pride in it.

Still, when Claude stares at it like _that_ , he can't help but feel the slightest hint of pleasure at the idea that he gave Claude reason to smile. He's felt that quite often during this visit, he realizes - maybe he enjoys pleasing others. It's been long enough since he's interacted with many other gods or mortals that he doesn't remember if it's always been this way, or if it's just Claude that brings it out in him.

“I doubt it would be very interesting.”

As much as Claude is interested in the rest of the underworld, Dimitri can't imagine him being excited about this. It's boring work - lots of staring at rocks, figuring out how to layer them, how to create the shapes he wants from them in order to have the desired effect.

But he won't refuse the request. He'll take company wherever he can get it.

“...maybe next time.”

Dimitri uses Claude's words here: _next time_ , as if he can ensure that it will happen if he just says it, if he tells Claude somehow that he wants there to be a next time.

“I'll hold you to that,” Claude promises with a nod. After a moment, he looks back up, seeming suddenly a bit self conscious. “...should I leave you to your work? I've imposed quite a bit, I think.”

Dimitri knows that Claude has duties of his own. He can’t stay down here forever, after all. But in truth, he doesn't want him to go. He never wants Claude to leave, not if he can stay down here with him, not if they can continue talking like this, not when Claude seems so genuinely interested in him and in this palace he's built. He knows he can't keep him here. He knows the stories - _the king of the underworld is a cruel man, he'll trick you into selling your soul_ \- but he would not have Claude here a moment longer than Claude was comfortable with.

Besides, there's still the sunlight to see and enjoy, and he thinks that he still needs privacy for that, as he's not sure if he could control his reaction to really seeing it again for the first time in so long.

There are things he needs to do that he can't do with Claude around and he's sure that there are things that Claude needs to tend to as well. Still, Dimitri wants to reach for him, to take him by the arm and say _promise me you'll come back_ , but of course, he doesn't. He's not a frail spouse, wasting away while their significant other goes off into battle. He's the god of death and he knows better than anyone else that parting is inevitable.

Still, his gaze flickers to the floor before he nods, and it feels like relinquishing something.

“As you will.”

The fire crackles beside him, the heat familiar and comfortable. He looks at it for a moment. Claude is still wearing his cloak.

“Loog will take you in next time. You don't need to wait out there like a common spirit.”

Claude slowly takes Dimitri’s cloak from his shoulders, folding it quietly and laying it on a nearby table.

“I'll be certain to bring him a reward, in that case.”

He slips his own shirt back on afterward, before taking up the emerald between his fingers again and offering it out to Dimitri.

“Should I leave this?”

Dimitri shakes his head once, just a sharp jerk of his chin. It means little to him - even though they're valued by the mortals on the surface, Dimitri has a wealth of them available to him at any moment. If Claude wants to keep his, he'll gladly let him take it away, so long as he doesn't notice the similarity to the shade of his eyes.

“Take it, if you want.”

He's more than earned it, coming down to this place, keeping Dimitri company, bringing him his earlier gift... Dimitri would give him a heap of other small baubles and things to keep around, but he knows that Claude shouldn't seem too conspicuous. Wearing something gifted to him by the god of the dead would likely be a bad idea.

But he can have this. With Claude's discussion of his earlier mischief, Dimitri has no doubt that he can hide it well enough.

He closes his eyes and breathes slowly and the palace shifts around them, flexing to his will as usual. When he looks up again, it's with a flat expression as he makes the few strides to where Claude put down his cloak and picks it up again to wrap around himself once more.

“Out that door is the gate,” he explains, nodding to the door they walked in through, which now leads to the main courtyard of the palace, functionally the front door of the castle. He wouldn't want to make Claude climb all those stairs, after all.

As an afterthought - or something that took a great deal of internal convincing to say - he amends:

“...travel safely.”

Claude smiles, tucking it away with a nod.

“Thank you.”

And he’s gone. Back to the sunlight, to the world above, where he can give birth to a myriad of wonderful things under the open sky. Dimitri tries not to be envious and fails, but at least now he has a promise - and now, he has Claude’s beautiful gift.

-

While Claude is gone, Dimitri works. It's similar to the last time they parted, where he threw himself into his work, but different - this time, he knows that Claude is returning and thinks that he needs to prepare.

He starts with the gift.

Dimitri takes the basket to a dark room and sets it on the floor, sits opposite of it, and stares at it for a long time, his elbows on his knees, mouth pressed against his clasped hands. He knew, from the moment he got the smallest of glances inside, he knew what it was. What it meant. He needs to see it again, to feel it - to somehow commit it to his memory, hold onto it for as long as he can.

So, he prepares himself, sits up straight, and slowly - achingly slowly - lifts the lid off of the box.

It lights up the entire room. Dimitri doesn't want to close his eye to shield himself from the brightness of it, and so he simply removes his gloves and threads his fingers through the air, casting a shadow on the ceiling above him. He can feel the heat coming from it, imagines basking in it, and is overcome.

He doesn't want to cry like a child, not when it would mean squeezing his eye shut and not seeing every second of this that he can. He prepared for this, but all of that seemingly goes out the window in the next few hours, when he curls around the box and just feels the warmth on his face, a steady sensation that isn't at all like the inconsistency of heat from a flame, but rather like a soft blanket draped over him.

As the light begins to fade, Dimitri bites his lip, torn between wanting to enjoy every second of this and trying to immortalize it if he can. His nose wrinkles, indecisive, before pushing the basket off of his crossed legs and situating himself on his knees, his hands on the polished tile ground on either side of it.

Dimitri takes a deep breath and steeples his fingers as the room around him shifts, giving him what he asks it for, and when he relinquishes his grip, it's with handfuls of perfect gemstones: diamonds, rubies, crystals, and other precious stones.

With trembling fingers, he tries each one of them, bringing them into the basket and trying to fold the rays of sunlight into them. The ruby shatters in his hands, the diamond gets so hot that it burns into his palm, the sapphire is unchanged, with no light at all visible inside of it. Dimitri grits his teeth and keeps trying as the room goes dimmer, sweat beginning to bead at his brow. He doesn't work in light, can't manipulate it the way Ferdinand or even Claude can, but he tries anyway, as a last ditch effort at preserving Claude's incredible gift.

The room grows darker and he tries again, taking the last trickle of Claude's gift and splitting it, one for each hand and he presses his palms over the last fading bit of light and closes his eye to the pitch-dark of the room around him. He breathes sharply through his nose, gathers his power, and thinks of Claude. The little smile on his face when he'd asked Dimitri to dance, the way the water made his curls lie flat against his forehead, the brilliant green of his eyes, and this gift, this beautiful gift that was just for him.

When Dimitri pulls his hands away, twin pinpricks of light illuminate the inside of the basket. He looks closer, twitching his fingers to bring up a fire so he can get a closer look at the result. What he sees is enough to shock him still and he slowly - gently, so as not to break it or cause it any harm - brings one of the specimens up to him to inspect.

He holds a flat crystal, the shape of a skipping stone. It's small enough to fit in his palm, perhaps the size of a brooch. The edges of it are seared black where it once was clear and the inside is cloudy with dark shapes that muddle the once-translucent gem.

But it doesn't matter. Lancing through the center of it is a scar of perfect sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience as I took my time with this chapter! We love and appreciate all of the encouraging support already, thank you so much!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the third time, Claude journeys to the underworld, bearing gifts for the lord of the dead. Against his will, his heart is beginning to betray him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Jill](https://twitter.com/panic_kraken) made this stunning [comic](https://twitter.com/panic_kraken/status/1277440859831701505?s=20) of a scene from chapter two. I CRY. IT'S BEAUTIFUL.
> 
> [Audrey](https://twitter.com/AudreyKare) drew a [saucy and wet Claude](https://twitter.com/AudreyKare/status/1275309527340945409?s=20). Look at him. HOW COULD DIMITRI NOT SWIM WITH THAT MAN?!
> 
> Thank you so so much for all the love you've given us and this fic. It truly fills me with joy every day, I love my dmcl family.

This time, Claude doesn't stay away as long. Now that he knows Dimitri doesn't mind his visits, might even like them, Claude is looking forward to his next journey to the underworld almost as soon as his feet have touched the earth above. He has duties to attend to, of course - prayers to listen to, wishes to grant. A forest fire has raged through a dense wood, and he walks through the blackened remains, helping to reseed the greenery that will spring up in its wake. The cycle of life.

He seeks out Hilda, asks for her help with something. She's too observant, and she narrows her eyes at him, but in the end she agrees, and with her help he manages to put his ideas into practice.

Claude doesn't count the days - most gods don't - but it hasn't been more than a couple weeks before he finds his way back to the underworld. It's so easy now, as if the path is just waiting for him, opening to welcome him to the shadowy realm of the dead. He wonders if there's ever been anyone who's walked this path with as much pleasant anticipation as he does.

Once again he's brought a basket, though this time he doesn't keep it so carefully covered. When he reaches the gate, he smiles at Loog and opens the basket, retrieving a decently-sized trout wrapped in paper.

“I got this straight from the river right before I came down. Maybe you'll like it.” He unwraps the fish and offers it to the lion, looking for all the world like someone offering a cat a treat. 

Loog seems happy to see him. The lion recognizes him now and perks up when Claude comes closer, though he doesn't quite seem to know what to do with the fish at first. He sniffs at it curiously to start with, lowering himself on his front paws to inspect the underside of it.

It's only after a few moments that Loog tentatively reaches out a pink tongue to lick at it, belatedly realizing that it's actually _food_. The rest may as well be history - the lion snaps it out of Claude's hands with a little more force than necessary, taking the whole thing in its mouth with no concept of savoring it. He nearly swallows the fish whole, devouring it at a quick rate and licking his chops when it's all the way down.

Claude is simply delighted by Loog's eager acceptance of his gift. He makes a mental note to bring more next time, or maybe something else - he wasn't sure if the lion would eat it, but now that he knows it was not only edible but enjoyed, it will only encourage him. Luckily a spirit lion is probably incapable of getting fat, or else the spirits entering might soon be far less intimidated.

Loog noses at the basket again, as if wondering if Claude has any more fish, before realizing that his job is to take Claude to his master. He paws at the ground for a moment before turning away and moving off, only looking over his shoulder to make sure that Claude is following him after he's a few long steps away.

Claude follows Loog with easy steps. It's foolish how eager he feels, how much he's looking forward to seeing Dimitri. Can they even be considered friends? And yet, Claude's been looking forward to this visit for days. Looking forward to seeing him again, talking to him, learning more about him. Coaxing out a smile, perhaps.

The lion leads Claude up to the entrance to the structure again, which opens without command or force into the now-familiar hallway of Dimitri's eternal palace. The halls are long and narrow and Loog doesn't have the same kind of casual control over it as Dimitri does, so it takes them a few minutes before they stop before the throne room. That door opens as well into the large room, one as ornate as Claude has come to expect from Dimitri. The throne is polished silver, black velvet, accented with red stones, and more than a little ostentatious. The surrounding stone is fashioned into gargoyles, lions, and other such things that might keep one away, while the ceiling is painstakingly carved into the image of a mortal war - an old one, given the look of the weapons and armor used.

Dimitri is not on the throne. He looks almost as if he's just passing through, and turns to the two of them when the door opens. He must know that Claude had arrived, of course: he would have felt him, sensed him now that he knows what to look for. But even so, the sight of him makes Dimitri stand up a little straighter, his attention focused solely on Claude.

“You came back.”

Claude smiles when he sees Dimitri, not bothering to conceal his pleasure. Dimitri is dressed in longer robes of black and gray today, fabric draped over his pants and hanging low past his elbows, bunched around his shoulders and throat and hanging off behind him in the swathe of a short, thin mantle. No armor this time, but he looks regal all the same, like some dark noble prepared to go to war. Claude thinks he's learning to read Dimitri, at least a bit - he thinks Dimitri is happy to see him.

“I said I would,” he says. “I brought you something.”

He's a little eager to show off his work. He steps close, opens the basket to show Dimitri. 

It's full of flowers. Different kinds, different colors, small and large, weeds and rare blooms - the basket isn't terribly large, but it's full enough that there was barely space for the fish that's now gone. It's a riot of colors, almost shockingly bright in the darkness of the underworld. Dimitri’s eye widens a little at the assortment of flowers and he cranes his neck to get a closer look at the vivid blossoms inside. He doesn’t step closer, though, surely knowing what his presence will do to them

“Most of them will fade and die before too long,” Claude says. “I can't do anything about that.” Not yet, anyway. “But a few of them... here, I'll show you.”

Claude plucks one of the flowers from the basket. It's a carnation, red and perfect, and without hesitation he holds it out to Dimitri.

Most of the flowers in the basket are real, vital and living and bound to die quickly down here, completely incapable of surviving Dimitri's touch. But a few of them are not. This one, and four others - they're all carefully made by hand out of wire and fabric and even beads, cunningly crafted to look almost real. Almost, but not quite - touching one, or even looking too closely, will give away the game. 

And they aren't entirely flawless, because though Claude asked Hilda to teach him, he made them all himself. If she'd done it, they might have been flawless, might have been indistinguishable from a living flower - she is the goddess of such things after all, creating beautiful jewelry and ornaments and crafts with wild inspiration. But Claude wanted to make these himself. He didn't want to simply deliver something Hilda had made - he wanted to make them with his own hands.

Even for a god, it took awhile to get them right. There were only five that he judged good enough to bring down with him, and this carnation is the best of them. The other flowers will die, but these will remain, and even though it's not quite the same as something real and living - they are bright, and they are beautiful, and perhaps they'll remind Dimitri of the world above.

Perhaps they'll remind Dimitri of him.

Dimitri takes an instinctive short step back to keep himself away from the flower, and shakes his head, confused. It takes him a second to realize - to notice the small peek of silver in the stem and then he frowns, wary but curious. In this moment, his mannerisms are almost identical to Loog's with the fish, as he takes a hesitant step closer and tries to inspect what Claude is offering him a bit more closely.

His eye darts back up, past the flower to look Claude in the face, as if affirming that what Claude is holding is indeed not alive. Whatever he finds there seems to reassure him because he hesitantly lifts a hand to take it from Claude's fingers. It doesn't die when he moves closer to it, doesn't curl and disintegrate and blacken in his grip.

“...it's fake.”

It doesn't sound like a bad thing when Dimitri says it - it's more awe and wonder, and he pulls it closer to him to look at it more carefully, turning it in his fingers with the smallest of smiles.

“Did you - ?” He shakes his head, looking past the carnation in his hand to the basket of flowers, clearly impressed. “You made these?”

“I had some help.” Claude says it with a quiet laugh, but he's smiling with obvious pride. “Hilda - goddess of artisans - she showed me how to do it. But all the ones I brought down here, I made myself.”

He looks into the basket and pulls out another. This one is a daffodil, bright yellow and carefully crafted, and just as unliving as the one in Dimitri's hand right now.

“Most of them are real flowers, and I'm afraid I haven't figured out any trick to keep them alive after I leave. They'll last for a few hours, then fade away. But these two, and a few more - they should last as long as you want them to. Until they're destroyed.”

The others are all scattered in among the living flowers: a delicate white lily, a vivid iris, a carefully made pink rose. They'll last as the others die, they'll yield to Dimitri's touch without any weakness. They are fake, it's true, and Claude would like very much to create a living flower that Dimitri can touch - but until that's possible (and he does think he'll manage it, one day, if he keeps trying) these will at least be reasonable imitations.

He doesn't ask if Dimitri likes them. It seems clear already that he does, and Claude didn't make them to be complimented on his craftsmanship or to feel good about himself. He made them to give to Dimitri. He made them because he thought they might bring the god of the dead some small bit of happiness.

“They're not quite perfect, but I'm afraid _I'm_ no god of artisans.” He grins at Dimitri, a little cheeky, a little pleased with himself. He did work hard - and far above, in the secluded bower where Claude lays his head, are a dozen or so failed attempts.

Dimitri eyes the daffodil in Claude's fingers and looks down again at the carnation in his own hands. 

“...beautiful,” he murmurs softly. It's a compliment, one that makes Claude glow with pride. Dimitri presses the carnation to his nose and inhales, as if he could somehow smell it. “Thank you.”

He doesn't move to take the basket, though it's a gift to him. Claude will have to keep carrying it, lest Dimitri kill the flowers within even faster than they would normally die down here, but at least he can let Dimitri peer into and see them all: the peonies, the daisies, and everything in between.

After a few long moments of gazing at Claude's creations - both fabric and real - Dimitri seems to remember something and straightens, as if surprised that his mind had wandered so quickly.

“I…” He pauses and looks down, runs his thumb over the stem of the flower in his hand and with his other arm, reaches into the pockets of his robes.

“This is yours,” he tells Claude a bit gruffly as he hands him a small pouch. Claude opens it immediately.

Inside of the pouch is a bracelet, and set into that is a seared dark crystal with a brilliant burst of sunlight trapped within. It's warm to the touch, the familiar warmth of sunlight, and now Claude knows what Dimitri did with his previous gift. As he gazes at it, Dimitri raises his arm to show him the matched bracelet he wears, a perfect twin to the one Claude holds.

“I was able to make two, from your gift. It's only natural that one goes to you.” There's a pause, a touch of uncertainty. “- if you want it.”

Claude did not expect anything. He kept the emerald Dimitri gave him - it's tucked away in the soft grass next to his bed - but he has never been certain whether that was an actual gift or simply something that Dimitri had let him take because he didn't particularly care what happened to it.

This - _this_ is without a doubt a gift. And it's a beautiful one, too. Claude holds it in his hand delicately, as if it might shatter if he moves wrong, though he's certain that's not the case. It's simply beautiful, that's all, and - precious.

How many beings can say they've been given a gift by the lord of the dead?

“Of course I want it.”

He does not quite know what to think of Dimitri having a matching piece. He likes it - he likes it quite a bit - but he doesn't know what it means. A symbol of friendship? Or something more? Claude can imagine a lot of things, but he can't imagine that he is being courted by the god of the underworld. He pushes that thought aside with a touch of regret.

Friendship then. Or maybe it's meant as repayment of a sort, but Claude doesn't think so. He turns it around in his fingers, admiring the craftsmanship, the care it must have taken to catch a piece of the sun and hold it like this.

“This is incredible,” he says. “I didn't think such a thing was possible - to capture the sun like this.” He brushes his fingers over the stone, still so gentle. Then - out of practicality, of course, just that and nothing more - he holds his hand out. “Put it on for me?”

It will be much more difficult for him to do it one-handed, and Dimitri is right here. It only makes sense to ask him for help.

Dimitri hesitates for a moment. In slow, even movements, as if he's afraid of startling Claude, he tucks the stem of the carnation in his collar so he can work with both of his hands.

It brings him in closer to Claude, but he tries to stay away from the basket. Dimitri takes the bracelet when it's offered back to him and looks down at Claude's extended hand, focusing on it as if it's a difficult task. With his gloves on, it's a little tricky to get the chain unclasped, but he manages well enough and gently slides it on over Claude's narrow wrist, fingers stumbling over his pulse point as he moves to reclasp it.

It's more like a cuff, a stone held suspended between two chains that wrap around his wrist. Dimitri manages the first clasp and slips at the second, muttering in a slight frustration before catching both ends of the chain and trying again.

Claude doesn't watch Dimitri's hands as he puts the bracelet on. His eyes are on Dimitri's face instead, watching the play of careful concentration, the brief moment of frustration, the faint hint of pink along his cheeks. Claude wonders if he might be imagining it - wishful thinking.

He wonders if Dimitri ever takes his gloves off.

“There were many failed attempts,” Dimitri says once he is successful, glancing for a moment at his own bracelet. The oddness of giving Claude a matching piece of jewelry doesn't seem to occur to him - maybe it's been too long that he's been down here, away from societal norms and the significance of what this could actually mean.

Either that, or he's deliberately ignoring it.

“The gems started out perfectly clear. They were blackened by the sun... but all the others that I tried shattered.” There's a pause and he glances down to the basket Claude is holding, thoughtful. The flowers are still perfectly healthy, Claude's presence keeping them alive and vivid despite Dimitri being so near. “...I couldn't do the same with your flowers. The proximity alone would still kill them.”

“I like the gems better like this. A ray of sun amidst the darkness.” He smiles at Dimitri. Claude doesn't step away - he waits for Dimitri to do it, enjoying how close he is, how he can see the shadow of Dimitri’s eyelashes on his cheek. 

He makes himself look away, raising his hand to admire the gem on his wrist instead. It really is beautiful, and it should be impossible - but then, so should stealing the sun. They certainly are a pair.

He isn't going to want to take this off, he knows. It stands out against his warm skin, against the relative lack of ornamentation Claude wears - a golden earring in his ear, sometimes hair ornaments that Hilda makes, sometimes a flower tucked behind his ear. This is clearly something else, something different, and he values it even more for that.

“Anyway, give me time. I'll figure out a way to keep the flowers alive, eventually.” He grins. “You deserve a little color down here.”

Though Claude does like the shadows, the austerity of it all - he likes it because it's so unlike what he's used to above, a riot of colors, plants and trees and animals, all on the move and fighting to survive. Here things are quiet, solemn, cool. It's nice to visit - but Claude can see, so easily, how it must all contribute to Dimitri's loneliness.

He'll find a way to fix that. Even if it just means visiting.

“You've already given me color,” Dimitri says gently, tugging his makeshift carnation from his collar and tipping it toward Claude as if it's an example. In that moment, Dimitri realizes how close they are standing and gives an awkward cough, stepping back to a more appropriate distance before he speaks again. “You go through so much trouble for me. I wish there was more I could do to repay you.”

Admittedly, Claude is a tiny bit disappointed that Dimitri has moved away. But he knew it would happen, was expecting it, and so he doesn't fuss. 

“I'm not doing these things to be repaid.” He smiles. Easy, bright. “And it's not trouble. I like having things to do - I like seeing problems to solve. Like how to coax a bit of sun from Ferdinand, or how to make a flower you can touch. I like doing this. It's as much for me as it is for you.”

This is true. He does love untangling mysteries, solving problems, discovering new things. But of course, it's not the whole story. He also just wants to see Dimitri smile.

“Besides, I get to see things no one else ever has. I get to be your guest - I feel quite privileged.”

“You said the first time that you came here, that you wanted to see everything,” Dimitri says. “I can show you... where the spirits go when they're stopped by the gates.” Dimitri seems hesitant - not uncertain, but as if he isn’t quite sure what Claude will think of that. Of course, he needn’t be worried.

“Really? I'd like that.” Claude brightens just a bit at the offer. Of course he wants to see what Dimitri has created, he wants to see the pieces of the underworld he hasn't yet. There's just so much that Claude wants to know, and it helps that it also means he'll learn a bit more about Dimitri - about his ideas of justice and judgement, how he's put them into practice.

Claude doesn't expect to be horrified or frightened. Death is natural, and certainly judgement is necessary as well. He already knows that Dimitri is not a cruel or unfair person, and those are the only things that Claude could imagine himself being bothered by. So he's simply curious, interested in what he might see.

“But I'd rather you didn't think of it as repayment. Just let me bring you things sometimes - like a friend might - and show me things that you'd like me to see.”

The idea of a more transactional relationship doesn't sit easy with Claude, though he doesn't want to think too deeply about why that is. He should prefer that - knowing that he can give something to get something that he wants, knowing that it doesn't go any further than that, knowing that he is safe from unwanted attachments.

But that's not what he wants.

Really, he'd like to show Dimitri his realm. To walk with him under the trees, let him sink his feet into the soft grass. Show him how easy it can be to coax a deer to eat from your open hand, to hunt alongside wolves. But none of that can happen - Dimitri cannot even see the sun, cannot stand under the sky without risking war with Edelgard again. It's easy enough for Claude to ignore the rules, visit Dimitri when he knows it's not allowed, but he can't bring him up to the surface. That's too much even for Claude.

So they have this instead, these meetings in the underworld, in the darkness. And for Claude, at least, it feels like enough.

Dimitri nods carefully at Claude's comments, looking thoughtful - or perhaps wistful - for a moment. Then he moves to leave the throne room, tucking Claude's carnation absently behind his ear and opening the doors wide again. Loog paces behind him, ever loyal and responsive to his every movement.

Claude takes a moment to set his basket of flowers at the base of Dimitri’s throne, where he will easily find them later. He sends a tendril of power into them, a flow of life to keep them bright and vibrant for as long as possible. Then he turns and follows Dimitri.

“You see this as a friendship?” Dimitri asks, turning his head back to Claude as he makes his way to the main entrance. Claude can tell that he isn't asking to mock him, or to be derisive about it - it's a genuine question. “I would…” Dimitri lets out a sharp breath through his nose. Claude wonders if he might be embarrassed. “...I'd be pleased to have you as my friend.”

“Would you?” For a moment Claude sounds almost wistful.

The truth is, he doesn't have many friends. He never has. Hilda is one of few. While he isn't disliked exactly, the older gods do not trust him, and the younger ones pick up that wariness. Before this, when he belonged to another pantheon, it was no different. Who would want to be close to someone who often incurred the wrath of other gods?

So it feels strange to be told that Dimitri would be pleased to have him as a friend. As if his friendship might be valuable, might be worthwhile. He does try to be a good friend - he thinks Hilda finds their friendship worthwhile, in any case - but he never quite knows if he's doing it right. He's certainly never felt like anyone desperately wanted to be his friend.

But then, it's not like Dimitri has many to choose from.

That's not a particularly satisfying thought, so Claude locks it away, crushes it all down. He smiles at Dimitri instead.

“I'd like that, if you'll let me.”

And that would be enough, he thinks. That would make him happy. He's being a fool if he even considers anything else - letting his imagination run away with him. He ought to find some mortal with the potential to become a great tactician or a supernaturally skilled hunter or something of the sort. Maybe a blond. Someone who would be a good distraction.

He should. That's what Hilda would tell him to do, certainly.

He knows that he won't.

“Of course,” Dimitri says. He pushes on. 

At the main gate, Loog parts from them, but not before butting his head into Claude's hip, still thankful for the treat. If he were a smaller cat, it might be cute - as it is, his size and latent power means that the affectionate gesture could almost be enough to knock Claude over entirely.

The strength of Loog's affectionate gesture makes Claude stumble, and he laughs. He still thinks it's cute, even if Loog could probably knock him over and sit on him without any trouble at all. He'll bring more fish next time, he decides, and every time he comes after that - it's worth it.

Dimitri takes Claude down a different path, one that's still inside of the main walls of the palace, but is almost hidden away, difficult to notice. It hugs the inside of the outer wall, and when they're far enough away from the gate that it's difficult to make out Loog's figure, the path ends at a small structure before them, more of a mausoleum than a temple or home.

“Those who are stopped at different gates go to different places,” he explains softly, opening the main doors. The inside of the building is empty, save for a staircase that descends down, down, deep into the earth. “They have different... default consequences. It's not a perfect system, so if they choose, they can seek an audience with me to try and explain the circumstances, the reasons that they cannot pass through. If they choose to do so, they are put in a stasis until I can pass judgement, at which point I summon them to the throne room.”

The staircase seems to go down forever. When it finally levels out, it's into a narrow and claustrophobic hallway with few doors on either side. Dimitri opens the first to show Claude - dozens and dozens of spirits are still inside of an empty room, frozen in time, barely visible in the dim light.

“Not many take this option. I judge them each day - which I was preparing for today when you came along.” Dimitri pauses, glancing back toward Claude. “I don't... enjoy inflicting suffering on mortals. If someone killed someone else in an accident or stole from a neighbor to feed their family, I'll let them into the palace.”

It's what he would expect from Dimitri. He already knows that Dimitri isn't unfair, isn't cruel. Of course he would run his realm with as much careful fairness as he could, as much mercy, as much justice. Claude has met cruel gods and capricious ones, those who would torment out of anger or simply because they were bored. The spirits here are focused on themselves, on their own suffering and regrets, and have likely never paused to consider how much worse it could be.

But that's the way of mortals. Still, he can see that Dimitri carries that, to some extent. He fulfills his duties, and he does it well, and he so obviously cares about doing it right - but he also struggles to be as fair as possible.

“You have a kind heart.” Claude isn't sure that _he_ does. The justice of nature is much more brutal and unpredictable, and often unfair. This care that Dimitri takes, the second chances he gives - it's admirable.

He peers into the room, enjoying the odd and haunting nature of the sight of those frozen spirits.

“I should apologize for interrupting your work, but I don't think they'll even notice that I have,” Claude says, and he smiles. He wouldn't mind watching Dimitri sitting in judgement sometime, though - he imagines that Dimitri must be awfully serious, awfully intimidating. Claude's near-constant smile and casual attitude wouldn't suit that atmosphere at all, but still he'd like to see it. “Do any of them ever pass on to be reborn, or do they stay here?”

Even most gods don't know these things. The cycle of life and death is a mystery to those who have nothing to do with it, and even Claude, who is an intimate part of it, did not until now truly know where souls went after life was finished with them.

Perhaps he and Dimitri truly are two sides of a coin, he thinks. He looks at Dimitri and thinks of him that way - a friend, a partner. Maybe nothing more will ever be possible, but in some ways, they will always be connected.

Next to him, Dimitri slowly closes the door again, continuing down the hall.

“Some of them,” he answers, nodding. “I would not inflict unspeakable cruelty back on the earth above, and so the worst of them remain down here in the prison. But for other crimes - smaller sins - and if the mortal is repentant, they can live again. They remember nothing of their previous lives, but keep the feeling that they had of wanting to do better. Others…” He frowns. “I have sent bandits and thieves back as rats and other small prey to learn of the fear they made others suffer. When those creatures die, they are again given an audience with me.”

They reach another door, which he opens again. This leads out into the wall of a massive crevice in the earth, a scar that burns with flames hundreds of feet below. There are no paths here and the door simply leads out into nothingness. It's sweltering in this place, uncomfortable and unpleasant, but Dimitri remains expressionless despite his heavy clothing.

“The prison.”

Upon closer inspection, there are rooms carved into the stone on either side of the crevice walls - they aren't much more than large holes, really, and remain open to the air in some mockery of freedom. Step out and fall to the flames, stay inside and have nowhere to go. The rooms are far enough away that there can be no conversing, the cliff sides sheer enough that there can be no scaling. Just... this. An lifetime of fire and nothing or eternal suicide.

“Few mortals earn this, but those who do…” He shakes his head, for this is truly the worst of the worst: unrepentant killers, predators, those who had no place on earth or in Dimitri's hell.

Dimitri turns away, breathing out slowly.

“The fire of the underworld is the only thing which can destroy a mortal soul. It's... necessary, for some of them.”

Those fires are strong enough even to hurt a god, though perhaps not destroy them completely in the same way a mortal would be. So Claude is careful when he peers down into it, feeling the heat on his face. A final ending for the worst examples of humanity - and one that, in the end, they must choose themselves.

“I've seen what humans can do to each other,” Claude says. “To each the fate that they deserve.”

The intentional cruelty of humans can be far worse than the heartless cruelty of nature. If a wolf kills a deer, no doubt it's terrible for the deer, but it's simply the cycle of life. The wolf must eat, and there is no cruelty inherent in killing so that one might survive. But humans don't only do that. Humans create new ways to hurt one another, ways that have nothing to do with survival, only their own worst impulses.

It's not in Claude's nature to judge them - that's never been his realm. But he sees it, and he certainly has his own thoughts about such things. He isn't likely to disagree with Dimitri's decisions, particularly when he's sure Dimitri is intimately familiar with the darker parts of humanity.

“You don't have an easy job.” He steps back from the heat of the flames, voice soft. He knew that already - knew the burden Dimitri carries must be terribly heavy - but this is a vivid reminder. “And those who have lived worthy lives, the virtuous?” Claude looks up at Dimitri and smiles, a small but genuine thing. “They join you in your palace, yes? Can you talk to them... can they talk to each other?”

He saw them dancing. He wonders if they just live out echoes of their lives, if that is enough happiness, enough reward. He supposes it might be, since there is little of them left, truly.

But no wonder Dimitri is so very lonely.

Dimitri closes the door, locking the heat away from them and leaving the prison the way it is. “Yes. They live there - have rooms there, but in a separate wing from my routine. I don't go to them often.”

There's a pause. In the low light of the hallway, Dimitri's face is in shadow, which nearly obscures the slight frown as he reaches out, absently tracing his glove along the edge of the wall.

“...they're afraid of me. My palace is supposed to be a solace to them, so I will not subject them to that fear.”

He shakes his head and starts walking again, back for the staircase up to the main grounds. When he speaks again, it's to answer another of Claude's questions, to gloss over what he's just said and keep up with the conversation.

“It isn't consciousness like you or I. It's... like a dream, for them. A long, pleasant dream of their lives, all intersecting with everyone else's dreams, for eternity. They hear and say things in their own minds, but they aren't aware enough of the truth of their surroundings to speak much in reality. They lose that when they cross the final gate. The only thing that invades their dreams is me.”

Claude thinks it doesn’t sound terrible. Mortals should not be aware of the underworld, of their eternity - it would stretch on too long, it would make them miserable. A happy dream of their lives is far better.

“Very young children are different," Dimitri continues, "they don't have those memories, that fear. They aren't stopped by the gates.” 

There's a faint smile at the corner of Dimitri’s mouth when he explains - “Loog turns into a kitten for them and guides them to another wing, where they can play. When I have time, I try to send them back into good lives, to give them another chance.”

Claude is delighted by the thought of that, a smile rising to his lips so easily. He would love to see Loog as a kitten - what an adorable sight that must be. And he is not at all surprised to learn that Dimitri takes care of the children that come here as well, treats them as fairly as they deserve. Too young to have harmed others, young enough to deserve happiness and joy even while they're here.

“It's just like I said. You have a kind heart.” He smiles up at Dimitri. He wishes he could take Dimitri's arm, walk together like that, but he doesn't think Dimitri would allow it. It would be too close, too intimate, and as much as Claude might like that, Dimitri has shown little sign of it. So instead he contents himself with reaching out, touching Dimitri's arm. A simple point of contact and nothing more.

“It doesn't seem at all fair for you to be down here alone. At least you should have companions... friends, someone to talk to.”

Someone besides him, because Claude is new, and that means Dimitri has spent hundreds of years alone. Hundreds of years lonely, without anyone to comfort him. Claude knows that is the case, but it seems brutally unfair, even cruel. How could he possibly deserve this? Claude cannot imagine anything that would make this exile fair.

Which only makes him more certain that he is right to ignore it. He may not be what Dimitri might have chosen, if he had a choice, but he is here, and he does not fear the consequences.

“I guess that just means I'll have to visit more often.”

Dimitri seems pleased at the thought. Claude _is_ pleased at the thought. He has his duties to attend to, yes, but few gods are truly busy. Just like Dimitri is able to make time for him whenever he shows up, it's not difficult to make time to come down here. So long as he is careful, cautious - maybe he can help ease Dimitri's loneliness. Just a little.

He pauses, thinking about it.

“Is there... did you have friends, before?”

Perhaps Claude can coax them down with him. He knows Felix and Sylvain were known to have sided with Dimitri, so long ago, but he doesn't know their history. He doesn't know who Dimitri might trust. If he did, he might seek them out, convince them it's safe to visit so long as they're careful.

But the next question is only for him. Even while he's asking it, he knows that he shouldn't.

“A lover?”

Dimitri reaches up to touch Claude's hand on his arm, his gloved fingers wrapping gingerly around the back of Claude's hand. The point of contact is warm, soft, and Claude wants more of it - but he knows better than to push. He knows better than to want what he can’t have.

“Dedue was my closest friend,” Dimitri says, “but I had others... Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix…”

He’s silent for a moment. No doubt it’s painful to remember them and Claude wonders if he should not have asked at all. But then Dimitri continues.

“When it... when it began, I commanded them not to visit me, to obey the ruling and move on with their lives. It wouldn't have been right to make them suffer for my war.”

Which answers that, and the way Dimitri says it is definitive: no more questions, no further explanation. Claude is certain that Dimitri's friends must miss him. But if Dimitri asked them to stay away, they have obeyed, and it's fairly unlikely Claude could convince them to visit now. Which is too bad - of course Claude likes having Dimitri to himself, but he'd like Dimitri happy even better. He'd like to see some of that loneliness fade.

But he knows it probably isn't worth inciting another war.

“As for - the other thing. In the early days, I took mortals. It was the fashion then, I believe. Before we all formed our pantheon and spent more time together.” Thinking about it, Dimitri smiles almost wistfully, dropping his hand from Claude's as they move back to the main entrance, where Loog is waiting for them. 

“Some preferred leaders or fishermen. I stayed with warriors, off to battle... granting blessings to them, so that their blades would always find the hearts of the wicked.” He sighs and just like that, it's over - he blinks and shakes off the reverie, offering a simple shrug. “- anyway, their souls are long gone now. This was before an afterlife for them was possible.”

Claude tries not to let anything Dimitri says bother him, but he can't help thinking about it - about how he is not a mortal, is not particularly a warrior. Oh, he can fight well, and he has often been a patron to archers and tacticians, but war is not part of his realm.

He's probably not Dimitri's type, he thinks, and what a ridiculous thought that is. As if he would have any standing to criticize a preference for mortal lovers, and as if he would have any reason to even pretend at disappointment. They are friends. Surely that is all they can ever be.

He lets his hand fall from Dimitri's arm.

“It's still the fashion for some.” He smiles, a quiet greeting for Loog. “I'm sure there are many who would dream of you, if they could.”

He doesn't know whether that will be comforting or not. After all, Dimitri cannot venture above and take a lover for himself, and it seems the spirits that arrive down here don't have enough left of themselves to be anything like a proper lover - or even a friend or conversation partner. But he knows that, were Dimitri to be within reach, he would be greatly admired. Feared, yes, but that's never made admiration any rarer.

“Well, if there's no one I can bring to visit you, I'll just have to make sure to visit myself.”

He was already planning to. Already planning to bring Dimitri more flowers, and Loog more fish, and keep trying to figure out how to keep things alive down here. He'll come to watch Dimitri work, or walk with him, or just keep him company now and then. He can't wish for more than that.

Dimitri frowns thoughtfully, looking up toward the palace walls.

“...it's dangerous for you,” he warns, careful and concerned about Claude's wellbeing, should he get caught. “I can't condone breaking the laws of the gods. I don't want you to be punished.“

Claude is touched by Dimitri's concern, but perhaps not as concerned about himself as he should be. “I'll be all right. I'll be careful, and even if I do get caught - well, it's not like I can pretend I didn't know. I'll take my punishment properly.”

Though he doesn't know what it might be. The best course is just to be careful. It's easier because most of the other gods leave him alone - he doesn't visit Edelgard's court often at all, and spends most of his time on his own. It'll be all right, he thinks.

But it's sweet that Dimitri worries. Claude isn't used to having someone worried about him.

“And you -” Dimitri pauses then, and Claude can see him wanting to change the subject, perhaps to push Claude’s thoughts away from all the law-breaking he plans to do. “- you have friends? Lovers?”

“I have a few friends. Hilda, the goddess of artisans - the one who helped me make those flowers. And Marianne and I work together pretty often, since our realms overlap, but she prefers to be on her own.” Which Claude understands. Hilda is certainly his closest friend - he doesn't know if he could say he has that many others. “I'm not the kind of guy who has a lot of lovers.”

He laughs, mostly to brush off the fact that the question makes him uneasy. It's his own fault - he's the one who asked it first. But he can't help but wish that Dimitri were asking for another reason.

He's really gotten himself in a bit too deep here.

Dimitri looks away then, lifting his hand to pull stone from the earth to act as a bench, moving to sit. There's room enough for two, and out here near the gate like this, they can be near Loog.

“I'm not either,” he admits, “I can count my history on one hand. But... you deserve someone who feels that way about you.”

Claude sits next to Dimitri, his eyes on the lion guarding the gates. He tries to make sense of it all - tries to understand what Dimitri is saying. Is that a gentle rejection, or something more wistful? Claude supposes that either way it's one of the sweetest things anyone has said to him.

He would like to have someone feel that way about him. To have someone love him deeply, truly. He doesn't think about it often, because it simply doesn't seem realistic, but - it's a nice thought, a happy dream. The humans he's been with have loved him, but they love in the way a human will always love a god. He's not quite real to them, he's something bigger and more powerful than they can even really imagine. They aren't capable of loving him like an equal.

He doesn't really know what that would feel like. It feels dangerous to even think of it.

He already knows that liking Dimitri as much as he does is foolishness of a sort. He's always avoided romantic entanglements with other gods - they're too serious, too permanent, too much of a danger to his carefully protected heart.

Mortals are fine. Mortals are a bit of fun, some light emotions, but they'll die quickly so there's no point in getting attached. Claude spends a bit of time with them, leaves them with a gift or a blessing and some delightful memories, and goes back to his duties. That's how it is between mortals and gods - life-changing for the human, barely a heartbeat for the god. And even that Claude doesn't do often.

Gods are something else entirely. A love affair could be literally world-changing, century-spanning. The sun god and the moon god have been dancing around each other nearly since they were created, and who knows how long that will continue? The gods of war and love have a tumultuous on-and-off relationship, sprinkled with Sylvain's brief and constant affairs with mortals, sparking Felix's temper, resulting in discord until Sylvain can sweeten him again - and that's been going on for as long as Claude's been here, too.

Love between gods can be brief and bright and end easily, but that's rare. Love between gods can also last forever, and that isn't always a good thing. Or it can shatter, and the jagged pieces left by heartbreak can ache for hundreds of years.

So Claude has never dallied with another god. Never opened his heart, never fallen in that kind of love. It makes his kind too vulnerable, it's too dangerous. He never thought it mattered, he never thought he was missing anything. He thought he was being smart.

He's not in love now. He's sure of that. But, looking at Dimitri, his traitorous heart wonders if he might indeed have been missing something all these many lonely years.

There is quiet between them, and for once Claude isn’t sure how to break it. What should he say? _Thank you_? That feels ridiculous, and anything more serious - he can’t go there. But he doesn’t want to brush off Dimitri’s kindness, doesn’t want to treat his words as something to laugh over.

For once, Claude is tongue-tied, and it is Dimitri who breaks the silence, circling around again to his concerns. Perhaps there is no area that they can speak of that isn’t a little bit dangerous right now.

“Anyway - don't say that. About your punishment. This is the same being who cast me here. She could…” Dimitri’s jaw goes tight here, his expression harsh, but he forces himself to continue. “...what she did to me was a mercy. She has more power over other gods than you think. She can keep you from ever coming back. She can... keep you from doing anything at all.”

“She can do that much?” Claude frowns a little, brows drawing down. He knows that Edelgard is powerful, and that if they ever came into conflict she would win - but he assumed that was because she has allies he doesn't, access to resources he doesn't. But could she truly be capable of something like that, something that would take everything away from him?

Gods can die. It doesn't happen often, but it can happen. And there's this, too - Dimitri imprisoned down here, when his power is so very obvious.

There are too many things Claude doesn't know. He needs to learn more, needs to uncover the answers. But he knows it isn't going to be easy, and until then - until then, he needs to stay safe.

“I'll be careful.” He tries to be reassuring. “We barely speak to one another, anyway - most of her followers don't have much to do with me, either. I'll keep my distance, and I'll be careful, but I'm not going to stop coming down here to see you.”

For a long moment, Dimitri is silent.

“I won't ask that of you,” he finally says, his voice soft. Dimitri moves his hand just a little, off of his own knee and toward Claude. It seems easy, instinctive, like he's reached for Claude's hand a hundred times before now - but this is only the first time he's wrapped his gloved fingers around the back of Claude's hand of his own accord and held it gently. “But I don't have it in me to tell you to stop, either. My heart wants to see you again... from the moment you walk away. Just be cautious. That's all I can ask.”

It would be impossible for Claude to not be affected by those words. From Dimitri's worry for him - a rare enough thing - to expressing such affection, such a desire to see him again. He didn't expect that, could never have expected it, and for a moment he doesn't know what to do. What to say.

In the end, he simply turns his hand so that he can hold Dimitri's in turn. It should not feel as intimate, as daring as it does. It's nothing, it's a simple touch, and Dimitri is even wearing gloves.

He's never touched Dimitri's skin. He wonders if it would be soft, if it is as cool as his appearance, or if Dimitri runs hot. If one touch would burn.

Claude thinks it would, no matter the truth. He doesn't think he could touch Dimitri without putting his heart in danger. 

“I will be.”

It's not a difficult promise to make. He doesn't want to lose this - he doesn't want to tempt fate, and fail, and be unable to see Dimitri again. It's not like Claude to get attached like this, to like someone this much so quickly, but he can't seem to help himself. Especially now, especially knowing that Dimitri's feelings are not so different. That they want to see each other.

That Dimitri wants him there.

“I'll be as careful as I can, but I won't leave you alone down here.”

He squeezes Dimitri's hand, gentle. He wants more. He wants to stand close to him, wants to - wants to kiss him, touch him, find out what it means to love another god. But he doesn't. He holds back, he does nothing but cling to Dimitri's hand. It's too soon, too dangerous.

But he will see Dimitri again, and again, and maybe -

Maybe it'll be something like courting.

“You are an awfully sweet man, for the lord of the dead,” he says with a smile, regaining some of his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You say things like that all the time,” Dimitri says, but Claude thinks he might be flushing a bit. “You're the one taking risks. It's... brave.” He squeezes Claude’s hand tighter just for a moment and then lets go. “Thank you.”

Claude has to hold back a little sigh when Dimitri lets go of his hand. Of course, it isn't as if they could sit here holding hands forever - as pleasant as that thought might be. Claude could wish for more, does wish for more, but he also knows that even wishing for that is risky. There are a thousand reasons why, even if his heart won't listen.

“Hmm... brave, huh? I don't get called that very often,” he says. It’s true. Perhaps it’s because he is focused on his own survival. Even for a god, such things matter - and for a god like Claude, a god whose realm revolves around such a thing, a god who's traveled between cultures and pantheons and done all sorts of things he shouldn't have, it's even more important. But it's not brave.

At least, Claude has never thought so. But the idea of Dimitri thinking of him that way... well, he can't say he hates it. It makes him feel a bit warm, really, Dimitri thinking of him in a complimentary way at all.

He's really gotten himself in deep here.

“I think I'm just a risk taker by nature.” He smiles up at Dimitri. “But this one was definitely worth it.”

And of course, he keeps taking these risks, because seeing Dimitri is worth it. And he'll keep doing so, despite Dimitri's warnings, despite his own awareness that it might get him in more trouble than he can handle eventually.

It's worth it. _Dimitri_ is worth it.

“Hey. Is there anything you want? From up above, I mean?”

“I... I don't know.” The question seems to catch Dimitri a little off guard. No doubt there are hundreds, thousands of things that he misses, things that he would have again if he could. Perhaps it’s unfair of Claude to even ask, given the vast multitudes of things that have been taken from Dimitri, but he wants to know anyway. If there is something he can bring, he will. 

Dimitri responds slowly, as if he's given it a lot of thought. “I like your surprises. I'd be happy with anything you can think of.”

Claude smiles, pleased by that. He does have some ideas - more bright things that will survive, painted objects or cloth, things Dimitri can't easily make for himself. Of course, Claude wishes he could bring Dimitri living things: flowers that will last, plants, even animals. But he has to start small, and while it's no hardship if the flowers he brings die, there's no way Claude would bring a living creature only to force Dimitri to watch it die.

So things that have never lived, first. And he'll keep picking at the flower problem, keep trying to solve it. It would be easier, he thinks, if he stayed down here longer - down where he can learn the flow of the energy, learn how to weave his own power with Dimitri's to make something that can survive. But he has duties above, and even if he can steal a little time for himself, a little time to come down here, he can't stay as long as he would need to.

That doesn't mean it's impossible. That just means it will take longer.

“I have a few ideas, then.”

He wants to reach out and take Dimitri's hand, hold it again. He doesn't, but he thinks about it for awhile, thinks about the soft pressure of Dimitri's fingers against his own.

He stands instead. As much as he likes taking some of Dimitri's time, he knows they both have things they ought to do, and - Dimitri does, after all, have a basket of flowers he may wish to do something with. Even if it's just look at them.

“I won't make you wait too long.” He smiles at Dimitri, and it's... softer than he intended. He cannot seem to keep himself from going a bit soft for Dimitri, which is entirely unlike him. Still, it's not an unpleasant feeling. “And... thank you.”

His hand rises then, fingertips brushing the bracelet that adorns his wrist. A treasure, truly.

Dimitri sits for another moment or so, and Claude indulgently allows himself to imagine it’s because Dimitri is reluctant to let him go. But, in the end, he rises to his feet and looks toward Claude.

“Of course.” He nods once and Loog tips his head at them from where he rests a short distance away. “Safe travels, Claude.”

It should be as difficult to leave as it is. But Claude has his duties, and so does Dimitri. So he inclines his head gently to Loog in return, smiles at Dimitri once more, and then turns to make his way up to the world above. To the sunlight that Dimitri has been kept from for so long, to the trees and the grass and the animals.

But though Claude would prefer to deny it, he knows there is a tiny part of himself that he leaves there in the underworld. Something even a god cannot control - the smallest, most treacherous part of his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude makes a fatal error.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter hybrid Dimitri and Claude chapter because... well, we gotta. Next chapter will be much longer and will be all Dimitri!

True to his word, it isn't long before Claude returns to the underworld. He returns again and again, and he never comes emptyhanded. Always, now, he brings a treat for Loog - a fish, a bird, a prime cut of meat. It's for the best that a spirit lion cannot get fat, because Claude is certainly spoiling him. But he likes to see the obvious pleasure Loog gets from these things, just as he likes to see the pleasure on Dimitri's face when he arrives.

And he does see it, now. He begins to be able to read Dimitri's expressions, as careful and solemn as he is. Each smile, even the tiniest, that he draws out of Dimitri is cause for celebration. He brings more flowers, and small succulent plants, and nuts and berries to eat. He brings a bright ceramic cup and a painted bowl, something that Dimitri can touch, something that will last. He still hasn't managed the trick of making living things last, though he is making progress: the flowers live longer each time, though they still cannot endure Dimitri's touch. Eventually they're able to live on for nearly a whole day after Claude has left before they succumb to the energy of the underworld.

Claude keeps trying, and intends to try more. His visits to Dimitri's realm are something he looks forward to - something that, ironically enough, brightens his days. His heart feels warm in his chest when they're together, and though he doesn't push for more, he can't seem to keep himself from flirting a little, and complimenting Dimitri, and touching him sometimes. Never more than a clasped hand or a touch on his arm, never as much as Claude might want, but it's something.

Claude wants more, he does, but though he's come to realize that his feelings are not casual, he finds himself - afraid. Afraid of what it might mean, of the difficulty of it. He's avoided romantic ties with other gods for so long exactly because he feared pain, rejection, heartbreak. Dimitri would not hurt him, and he thinks Dimitri would not reject him, but... heartbreak. How could they avoid that? He can't stay in the underworld with Dimitri when his duties are above, and Dimitri cannot come walk the world with him.

And, of course, Claude is not supposed to be visiting him. Is not even supposed to have met him.

He is careful. He makes sure that no one sees him slip into the underworld, and usually that is easy - after all, no one has ever tried before. The difficult part, for Claude, is the gifts Dimitri gives him.

With Dimitri taking up such a large part of his heart now, he wants to be able to look at them and remember the man who gave them to him. It's foolish and sentimental, and he knows it might get him into trouble. But his fears are eased the first time someone - Ignatz, the god of art - sees the bracelet Dimitri gave him. 

It's a chance meeting, as of course Claude is careful to hide any sign of the underworld when he knows he will meet another god. But he does not expect to run into Ignatz, who generally lingers in cities and villages where his patronage is needed. He smiles at Claude when they meet, a shy thing.

“Hello,” he says, and Claude grins at him in return. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Claude says. The bracelet on his wrist feels heavy, obvious, but if he makes any attempt to hide it now it’ll only draw attention.

“Oh,” Ignatz says, and his cheeks go a little pink. “I wanted some new inspiration. It’s become the fashion to paint natural scenes, you see -”

“Flowers and trees and things, right?” Claude ventures into the cities sometimes, and he thinks he’s seen that. And there _have_ been more mortals wandering into his realm with sketchbooks and paints, though if he were being honest he hasn’t paid much attention to them. “Well, go right ahead and feast your eyes on all of this.” He gestures vaguely at the forest around them, and Ignatz smiles.

He sees the moment when Ignatz’s eyes settle on his bracelet, the way they widen just a little. “Is that… did Hilda make that for you? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Claude stays casual, stays calm. He considers taking the obvious explanation Ignatz has offered, but it would be far too easy for word to get around, for Ignatz or someone else to ask Hilda about the piece of jewelry. She would lie for him if he asked, he thinks, but it’s still not safe. He chooses something else instead.

“A gift from a worshipper,” he says, pressing his fingers against the gem, feeling its warmth, thinking of Dimitri and the warm weight of his eyes. “I don’t get a lot of those, you know, people usually offer meat from their hunts or other things that don’t last. So I thought I’d show it off. Charming, isn’t it? That’s a bit of mortal magic there, making it shine.”

It’s so easy to lie. It’s always been easy for Claude - he’s always been good at it. He sees Ignatz eat it up without question, sees the way he smiles and nods. They speak for a little longer and go their separate ways, and Claude is reassured. It was easy - so easy. 

Too easy.

That, in the end, is what proves to be his downfall. When he thinks about it later, he knows he should have hidden the bracelet away after that, should have only taken it out to look at when he was completely alone. Should certainly not have worn it anywhere someone else could see. Because while Ignatz will swallow his lies easily, not all gods are so trusting.

He meets Hubert by chance as well - or what seems like chance. Claude has deep doubts whether that's the truth, because he knows Hubert does not trust him, and he knows Hubert is Edelgard's most trusted lieutenant. And really, it's understandable. Hubert is the god of the moon, and once upon a time in another land, that was Claude's role. Human faith sways and changes, and it's not at all impossible that Hubert might someday be dethroned, that the moon might become Claude's again and Hubert left to fade away or take another, smaller role.

God of spies, perhaps.

So it is, to some extent, understandable that he would spy on Claude. And Claude is no fool, he knows this well. Though many might think of night as the best place to hide from prying eyes, Claude has always been certain to avoid visiting the underworld at any time when moonlight might fall upon him, because anywhere moonlight touches is a place that Hubert may be able to see. Claude has been careful, Claude has been cautious. And indeed, it's not moonlight that's his undoing. It's not nighttime at all.

The moon isn't in the sky when Hubert 'chances' to meet him. It's daytime, warm but cloudy, and Claude is sitting on a riverbank drawing reeds from its depths. He greets Hubert, because though the god's sudden appearance makes him wary he knows there is no better way to avert suspicion than to act normal. 

“What brings you here?” Claude says with a smile, as if he is pleased to see Hubert, as if he doesn’t have alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

“I simply wished to take a walk. To enjoy the pleasures of nature.” Hubert’s smile in return is thin, and that’s when Claude knows he’s in trouble.

He’s never once seen Hubert do anything for pure pleasure. Perhaps even he has that kind of weakness, but if he does, Claude is likely one of the last people he would ever share it with. And he has now had two immortal visitors come upon him unexpectedly. For another god, one that spent more time with their pantheon, that might not be something to remark on - but Claude spends most of his time alone.

He visits Hilda, from time to time. He occasionally works with Marianne, who rules over animals, and Petra, the queen of the hunt, because their realms neatly overlap his own. But most of the gods have no reason to venture into the wild places that Claude rules. And if someone comes seeking him specifically, usually they will send a messenger of some kind - because after all, if one wishes to find a god of nature in a forest, it usually helps if they know you’re coming and can allow themselves to be found.

But if Claude had been given any warning, he would have been more careful.

He should have been more careful anyway.

“Well, don’t let me disturb your nice little hike,” Claude says. He smiles and rises to his feet, letting the reeds slip from his hands back into the water. There’s no way Hubert will just let him walk away, but Claude doesn’t want to turn this into a fight. He is strong here, but Hubert is cunning and has far, far more allies than Claude.

“Not at all,” Hubert says. “Your company would be pleasant indeed.”

They smile at each other, Claude’s sunny and bright, Hubert’s thin and sharp. Both entirely empty of truth. Claude reaches for an excuse, a distraction, but Hubert gets there first. His eyes widen with false surprise, resting on Claude’s wrist.

“Ah,” he says, “what cunning craftsmanship.” His eyes glint and he reaches out, thin fingers unwelcome on Claude’s arm. “I had heard mention that you’d received some kind of gift. And that light inside - it looks awfully familiar.”

Of course. Of course he would recognize Ferdinand's sunlight. Claude was a fool to wear it anywhere but the safety of his own rooms. A sentimental fool who allowed his heart to guide him at the worst possible time. He should have hidden it away the moment Ignatz saw it, instead of trusting his lies. Ignatz must have mentioned it to someone - he would not have considered it remarkable to do so - and Claude thinks it likely that Hubert has been watching him for some time, listening to whispered words.

Waiting for a misstep. Waiting for a chance to take down someone who might become a threat, and what better chance than this?

“A gift from a mortal follower.” Claude runs his fingers over the metal, his heart twisting within him. He ought to be afraid, and perhaps he is, but he's also already planning. “It's so clever what some of them can do these days.”

“Indeed.” Hubert smiles, the barest curve of his lips, and it's sinister indeed. He releases Claude’s wrist. It doesn’t make Claude feel any less cornered. “The humans do surprise us all the time.”

He takes his leave not long after, but Claude is not an idiot. He doesn't have much time. Hubert knows better than to challenge him one-on-one in his own realm, but whatever suspicions he might have had before, they have been confirmed now. He’ll make his move soon.

Claude makes escape plans in his head - to Almyra perhaps, to beg for shelter from the pantheon that he once was part of. Not a good fate, but he might survive, at least. Hilda would shelter him, but he can't pull her into this. Somewhere across the seas, perhaps?

But there's really only one place he can go, one place he might truly be safe. And so he flees.

Edelgard catches him outside the entrance to the underworld. He nearly made it - but nearly isn't enough. Her cold fury is clear on her face, and though Claude might be able to stand against her alone - especially here on the earth, where his power is - he cannot think to face her with her forces arrayed behind her. Hubert is at her left hand, Ferdinand at her right. Caspar has come, and Dorothea, and even Bernadetta, and that's when he knows he's really in trouble.

There will be a trial, they tell him. Until then, he is bound in a shining cage, in the center of one of Edelgard's temples. Still on the earth at least, they've given him that much in deference to his status - but they allow not one bit of nature close. Nothing that he might use to effect an escape, not so much as a weed or a single songbird. It's all stone, shining golden bars, and the open sky above the roof of the temple.

Claude is not sure how he'll get out of this. His allies among the gods are not given leave to visit him, and even Hilda isn't willing to flout that command. Claude doesn't blame her - in fact, he would be upset if he did. At least she might make it out of this safely, as he never actually told her he was visiting the underworld.

She knew. And of course, he knew that. But so long as they never spoke of it, she can deny everything, and make it out safely.

He is guarded by great beasts, Edelgard's creations or Hubert's, he's not sure, but he cannot charm them. His arms are bound by chains, his legs as well. It seems they've heard at least some of the tales of his clever escapes, his startling tricks, and they're using caution lest he find some way to wriggle out of this.

It does not look promising for him.

Time passes. It won’t be long before the trial, but as many gods as possible must attend and Claude supposes that requires that messengers be sent, far-flung immortals to set their work aside and travel to the sky goddess’ palace. Until then, he waits in chains.

Claude is not prone to misery or hopelessness. He has always been one to fight to the last moment, find an impossible way out, trick and lie and _survive_. But here in this golden cage, desolation knocks at the door in a way he hasn’t known for years.

Dimitri warned him so many times. Dimitri worried, and Claude knew he was right but he wasn’t willing to give up what he had found. He wasn’t willing to walk away from Dimitri, who is so lonely and so kind, who deserves so much more than he’s been given.

Now it seems that choice has been taken from him.

He hears footsteps on the marble floor of the temple, and he looks up. He’s expecting Hubert, maybe, here to gloat, or perhaps Edelgard with her cold fury.

Instead it’s a god he’s never met before. One he knows only by name, a name he has mostly recently heard on Dimitri’s lips.

“Dedue,” Claude says. “I’d hoped to meet you - but you know, in my imagination there were less chains involved.” He summons up a smile, looking up at the tall figure before him. 

The god of smithing is solitary and so is Claude, and with little overlap between their realms they’d never had reason to meet. Knowing he was Dimitri’s friend, Claude had thought of seeking him out - but with his visits to Dimitri such a dangerous secret, he had thought better of it.

Now he wonders if he should have. If, perhaps, he ought to have looked for more allies.

Well, it’s too late for that.

“Claude,” Dedue says, quiet and deep. “I cannot stay long, but I needed to know if it was true.” There’s an expression on his face that might be concerned, but Claude doesn’t know him well enough to read it. “Have you visited the underworld?”

Claude smiles, and there is some pain in it. “Would I be imprisoned here if I hadn’t?”

It hurts nothing to admit it. Even if Dedue has no sympathy for him, even if he is entirely Edelgard’s creature now, Claude has no chance of innocence. His crime is already confirmed - all that’s left is determining what his punishment ought to be. There’s no point in pretending he hasn’t walked in Dimitri’s realm. Not anymore.

Dedue’s shoulders relax, just the smallest bit. “And how…” There is a pause here, but Dedue’s gaze remains steady. “How is he?”

Not entirely Edelgard’s creature, then. 

“He is lonely,” Claude says, because there’s no point in lying. “But he is just, and he is kind. He rules the underworld well. He welcomed me, again and again.” He bites his lip, and then he has to look away before he can force out any more words. “I know you can’t see him, but if there’s ever a way… ever a way to get a message there, please tell him that I’m sorry.”

The priests are watching them, and Edelgard’s monsters as well. Dedue wouldn’t be able to help Claude escape even if he wanted to. This is all that Claude can ask of him.

“I will,” Dedue says, and Claude thinks he hears pain in that deep voice. “And - at the trial, I will argue for you. Others will, as well.”

Dedue, it seems, isn’t the only one who misses Dimitri. He had allies once, good friends, people who loved him. Claude wonders if Dimitri has any idea that they still do. That he might be alone, but he hasn’t been forgotten.

He wishes he could tell Dimitri that.

“Thank you,” Claude says, though they both know it won’t do anything. Claude’s small handful of allies and Dimitri’s former friends aren’t enough to sway Edelgard’s anger, could never be enough to spare Claude from whatever punishment is coming to rest upon his shoulders.

But still, it helps.

Dedue inclines his head, silent and solemn. Then he walks away, leaving Claude in that temple, in his chains, awaiting a judgment that he cannot escape.

-

Claude's visits are irregular even at the best of times, but they've been more frequent lately. Once Dimitri shows him as much as he feels is appropriate of the underworld, they simply talk. Claude brings food and they go into opulent rooms and dine together, or they go down to his workshop again and admire the waterfalls, the stones that Dimitri can pull up with his own power.

Dimitri shows him more ballrooms, more long halls, a market, a cave connected to the underworld only through an underground stream, where he would sometimes go to watch small bugs scurry back and forth across the ground, far enough from the underworld that death does not quite touch them.

They grow closer. Claude tells him more stories of aboveground and small pieces of his past manage to slip through. Dimitri does the same, though he only speaks of things that happened before the war. He gets to know him - gets to memorize his smile and the light in his eyes so perfectly that when he closes his eye, he feels as if he could trace the pattern of Claude's face into the wall. Every time they part, all he can think about is when they can be together again.

And then Claude stops coming.

Dimitri doesn't know how long to wait for him. A week, a month? His visits are always erratic, particularly during the beginning of the seasons, but Dimitri doesn't think that it's that time of the year. He never knows _when_ to expect him exactly because Claude always comes and goes as he pleases, but Dimitri knows that Claude always has to sneak away to get here, and so he can never guarantee his precise return.

This feels different. This is Dimitri pacing around the gates after another few days, something churning in his gut. With any luck, Claude will show up with a jaunty smile, tease Dimitri for being so concerned, and they'll move on like normal.

But he doesn't.

It's another few days before someone else shows up at his gate, the only god with leave to come down here and Dimitri's only real connection to the outside world for hundreds of years.

“You're in trouble,” Shamir says from where she's leaning against the door of his gate. 

Dimitri is pleased to see her at first, since she might have something to tell him and he's always appreciated her no-nonsense attitude, but now it feels different. She lifts herself off and moves closer to him without his permission - she's never needed it. 

As the messenger goddess, she comes and goes where she pleases, relaying news of the outside world, untouchable, uncatchable. Her purpose is not to take sides, nor is it to fight and so she poses no threat to any cause. Shamir wields information as her weapon and travels between the sky and the sea and the lands and even to other countries, meeting with other messenger gods, and nothing has been able to stop her yet.

She comes to the underworld infrequently, only to convey when something has shifted dramatically up above. She does not carry messages between friends and considers it beneath her to act as someone’s errand woman. She moves at the behest of her own whims, and so her being here now… it means something.

Even as she approaches him, her footsteps never make a sound because they never quite touch the earth beneath them.

“What do you mean?”

Being straightforward is always the best way to go about dealing with Shamir. She made it clear from the beginning that they would not be friends, but that she had no side in the war and has no side after it. She is her own agent, somehow uncontrollable and safe from the sky queen's laws.

So they aren't allies, but - not quite enemies either. Now though, she sighs as if disappointed in him somehow.

“I've been called to the court of the heavens to judge one of the younger gods,” she tells him casually, and keeps walking on air ahead of him, even as Dimitri goes still, “for breaking a rule that nobody has ever broken before.”

His heart sinks in his chest like a stone.

“Claude.”

It's barely a whisper but she hears him and turns sharply on her winged heel, her eyes narrowed with distaste.

“Apparently he tried to flee down here.”

Dimitri's mind races at that. Down here? Claude would only come down here if he had no other alternative, because the underworld is a prison, but it is also free from the judgement of the gods. The goddess of the heavens and her followers have no power down here and Dimitri can keep them out for an eternity if he wants. 

But if Claude tried to come here, if he fled to the eternal palace then - then he would never be allowed back up to the surface. She would find him if he tried, recapture him and judge him there.

It must be an act of desperation, but it’s telling. If Claude can flee down here, he'll be safe. Dimitri will keep him safe.

“When,” he asks slowly, carefully, “is the judgement?”

If Shamir thinks that it's an odd question, she doesn't show it.

“Tomorrow.” There's a pause. She frowns as if she's not sure she wants to continue, but eventually she does, straightforward as ever. “The punishment for going to the underworld is being stripped of immortality. It's likely that Edel - that the goddess of the heavens will make a case for it.”

Dimitri shakes his head.

“He's clever. He'll find something.”

“He doesn't have any options,” Shamir tells him flatly, “I've seen the temple. He has no domain there.”

So it's this then. His first ally, his first friend in hundreds of years, and he loses him. The sky goddess rips him away like she's taken everything else. Claude broke the rules, and Dimitri broke the rules with him. They were both complicit, but Edelgard cannot reach him here so she punishes him by removing his only friend.

Another eternity of loneliness stretches out before him, bleak and endless, with only Loog, the souls of the dead, and the occasional visit from Shamir.

She looks at him now and her face is stoic, impassive as always. She seems to have little sympathy for him, but she came down here to tell him of the news, didn't she? She cares enough for that, so that he won't be left wondering what happened. He can appreciate that much.

“...thank you for telling me.”

Shamir nods once and takes it for the dismissal that it is, crouching slightly to leap up to the outer wall of his courtyard, lightfooted as ever as she skitters in place at the top of the rampart.

She hesitates there at the last moment and looks back down at him, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the stone.

“Don't start another war,” she tells him, and then she's gone.

Dimitri's hands clench into fists and he bows his head, an outward picture of calm despite the unease and rage he feels. She has Claude. She knows that Claude has been visiting him. Claude is going to die a mortal’s death, and Dimitri will never see him again.

He warned him. He _warned_ him, he should have known better. He was the god of justice, how could he play at breaking the law like this? And for what - ? Because he was lonely? Because Claude was the first friendly face he'd seen in years? If he could, he'd trade it all: these past few years of companionship for Claude's safety. He'd condemn himself to eternity alone in a heartbeat if it meant that Claude would be safe again.

Maybe he can tell her somehow? Maybe he can call Shamir back and try to negotiate with the goddess of the skies through her, tell her that he will send Claude away from now on if she can just spare him... but there's too much bad blood between them, he thinks. Edelgard won’t take a deal like that, especially not now that she knows that Dimitri is capable of breaking the law.

This is why he told his friends to stay away, this is why he let himself suffer - because anyone who tries to save him would suffer a far worse fate.

Dimitri growls in frustration, pressing his hands to his face as he tries to breathe, to think of another way, but there isn't one. Claude will die with a mortal's lifespan and then he'll come down here and everything Dimitri loves about him will be stripped away by his gates.

He flings his hands downward and the ground splinters at the motion, cracking a long crevice into the stone beneath his feet. The sound makes him turn around, whirling with his cloak whipping in the air behind him and he grits his teeth and does it again, expanding the fissure until it reaches the outer wall of his castle grounds and the stone crumbles into it. It's useless, needless emotion, but the world around him responds the way it always does, always in his control even when he isn't in control of himself.

It's his fault. What can he do? By this time tomorrow, Claude will be condemned to a mortal lifespan, and he -

\- he could save him.

The thought is almost alien to him and Dimitri goes still again as it consumes the rest of his mind. It hasn't even occurred to him until now, breaking the laws of the gods is such a foreign concept to one who used to embody justice that Dimitri has to hesitate and wonder if he even can.

 _Don't start another war_ , Shamir had said, but then she'd also said - _tomorrow. The temple_. She'd known, somehow, that he would eventually come to this conclusion. She'd given him all of the pieces. Now, all that's left is to see if he can do it.

Were it not for Claude's casual rule breaking in the past, he might not have been able to physically leave the underworld, but Claude has influenced him almost as much as he's influenced the underworld to accept handfuls of life every time he brings in flowers. _I won't get caught_ , he'd said with a carefree smile, and Dimitri thinks that if he's fast enough, careful enough - maybe he won't get caught either.

He knows that there will be guards and he isn't worried about them. What's concerning are the other gods, if she has them posted as well. Ferdinand under the sunlight or Hubert under the moon could be a match for him, but Dimitri knows he's stronger still. He may not be able to kill a god outside of his realm, but he's one of the few gods who has that power at all.

Could anyone truly anticipate Dimitri going up to the surface though? Breaking this law, when upholding laws used to be the stuff he was made of? He doesn't know.

Best to prepare.

Dimitri snaps and closes the gate, gathering Loog's attention. The lion moves over to him without needing a command, pressing its nose against his leg. It loves Claude as much as he does - which isn't a surprise, considering that Loog is a natural part of him.

“You will obey me,” he commands, and Loog pulls back a fraction. “If you don't, you'll be killed.”

Loog could easily get distracted up on the surface, surrounded by things he's never seen before. On that note, so could Dimitri - but he won't. He has a goal, a purpose, and he'll see it through.

Dimitri leads the lion back indoors and begins to make the necessary preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri defies the heavens to save him and Claude must make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change and additional tags here!

It's a quiet day. The judgement is nearing. Claude is guarded by Edelgard's beasts and a few of the various heavenly priests mill about the temple, but no gods are in view - well, except for Claude of course, in his golden cage open to the heavens so that the other gods may look down on him should they so choose.

The priests ignore Claude in his cage as they perform their various tasks: restocking the incense in the burners, taking inventory of the offerings to give when their goddess descends upon the earth, offering up their prayers in complex rituals under the open sky.

In another time, it may have been peaceful. In another time, the mood in the air may have been joyous, filled with anticipation and excitement. Today, however, Claude’s dread permeates through the air, thick enough to taste, and the presence of Edelgard’s guardian beasts - hulking creatures, likely created by Hubert, who pace around the area to fend off any of Claude’s followers who might try to free him - is oppressive and makes the priests shrink away from the dais.

And then, there is something else. From nothing, there is a _feeling_ , a sensation that feels foreign and full of trepidation. A weight in the air, a sharp metallic taste in the back of the throat, something wrong. Something _off_.

Something powerful.

The power begins to spiral, forming a dark shadow against the ground, as if there is a cloud above but the sky is clear. The pressure increases, heavier and heavier and small rocks begin to tremble and slowly rise from the earth as if bound by an invisible string.

The first priestess takes note of this strange phenomena and takes a step back, stunned into silence, unable to warn her peers of what she sees and what might be coming.

Then, something _snaps_ and the pebbles fall back to the ground. The weighty power releases all at once and the priests and priestesses take a large gasp of air, all of their attention now turned to the shadow that rises from the ground and crackles with a dark energy. The shadow expands, shapes into a doorway.

It doesn’t take long before a man steps out, followed by a pitch-black lion.

Dimitri is dressed for war. His black armor gleams against the harsh sunlight, his weapon held firmly in his hand, his visible eye narrowed behind the jagged curtain of his hair. There is an aura of death around him, as well as a flex of barely-restrained power. He'd never shown Claude the extent of his power down in the underworld, though he's sure that Claude had some idea of it. Now though, it spirals around him like a windstorm, turning the grass at his feet and in a large radius around him to ash in a matter of seconds.

“No,” one of the priests whispers, turning his gaze briefly toward the sky before rushing forward, situating himself between Dimitri and the temple with his arms raised high, “this is a sacred temple belonging to lady Edelgard, Emperor of the Heavens! You cannot -”

Dimitri's eye narrows and he lifts a hand, his lip curled in distaste at the mention of her name. The priest gasps, arching in pain as his skin withers as if he's aged forty years in a single heartbeat, and then sloughs off of his bones, vividly decomposing and dead within moments. He falls to the ground and Dimitri takes a step forward, death following him like a faithful hound and killing everything in his radius.

The other priests don't try to stop him after that. They scurry to the side, eager to be out of his way, reckoning justly that they'd rather face Edelgard's fury than tempt fate with the god who will be responsible for their eternities.

The beasts wait at the top of the staircase. Dimitri makes his way forward with Loog at his heel, solely focused on making it through. He takes one step and then another, and when his foot touches the first step in the short staircase, the temple itself _cracks_ as if struck by lightning. A fracture echoes right up the staircase, along the floor, up the wall, splitting the building neatly just inches away from where Claude's cage is being kept.

Dimitri tips his head. From the crack rises more shadows, more power. The first beast lunges for him and Dimitri does not move to stop it, trusting Loog to intercept, which he does. The lion pounces, slamming into the fearsome creature and tangling with it to fall against the staircase together. Loog clamps his teeth around the beast's shoulder and decay curls out along its skin from where he drew blood, necrosis overtaking the flesh until the beast screams out and rips backward, batting Loog away with a mighty paw before they clash together again.

The second beast makes a move to attack Dimitri as well and he twirls his lance as if it were made of straw, expertly thrusting it into the creature's chest with barely a movement. When it punctures it, the beast convulses like the priest had, its flesh disintegrating off of its bones until it collapses, little more than a skeleton.

The remaining three beasts leap at him, perhaps thinking that if they all attacked at once then he could do little to stop them. Dimitri spins and neatly beheads one, reaching out his left hand to grasp at the neck of the second, while the third clamps its teeth over his shoulder and shakes its large head, as if to tear his flesh from bone.

The attempt only serves to irritate him. These creatures were made to dissuade human worshippers, maybe even lesser gods, but are nothing to him. Edelgard couldn't possibly have anticipated _Dimitri_ of all people coming to the surface like this and so her defenses are hideously outmatched. It's only a matter of time until the other gods come - likely, they sensed his presence from the moment he arrived and are already on their way. Dimitri won't win a battle against all of them, but against some... he stands a fairly decent chance, so it's possible that they would wait to condense their forces before confronting him.

Dimitri inflicts death on the creature in his hand, rotting it from the inside out, while his other hand drops the lance and reaches up to wrap around the beast with teeth currently sinking into his armor. He rips it off of him and then that one is dead as well, as simple as anything.

He's at the top of the stairs now. He turns his head, looking at the cage at the back of the altar, at Claude inside of it, and steps forward in long, easy strides. The room trembles and buckles around him, cracks spreading from each footstep, the traitorous stone blessed by Edelgard but swayed by Dimitri's dominion. He stops in front of the cage, lingering at the bars, his bright blue eye looking down toward Claude: the god of death, ancient and fearsome, here, for him.

He opens his mouth.

“If I free you,” he says, and his voice echoes with something deeper underneath it, “you must come with me. You will never again see the surface without facing her judgement.”

Loog pads up to him from where it dealt with the first beast, taking his position behind Dimitri's legs. It watches Claude impassively - the lion adores him usually, but it obeys Dimitri's call now and will not move unless he wills it.

“If you choose to stay... they could see it as you cutting ties with me. You may yet live with your godhood intact, but you will never come down to the underworld again.”

The walls continue to fragment, but Claude's cage is untouched. Dimitri is - perhaps subconsciously - tearing this temple apart, brick by brick, but he will not let it affect Claude's prison and is taking care to keep his power from weighing on Claude. There's no softness to him now. He can't show it, not here.

“Make your choice.”

Claude looks up at him and he is not afraid of him - not now, not ever. But he’s quiet. Dimitri anticipates quietness, anticipates that Claude will need some time to consider his offer.

They don't have long, but this isn't the kind of decision to make lightly, and so he's not impatient or annoyed by the pregnant pause between them. He takes no offense to Claude needing to think it over, to truly make sure that this is what he wants - Dimitri is asking him to give up everything, everything for the underworld. For him.

And then, there's this: now, whatever Claude chooses, this choice saves him. If he goes with Dimitri, he is hidden, insulated from Edelgard’s judgement and rule. If he chooses to stay, then Edelgard will see that as a rejection of Dimitri and that he is willing to try and earn her favor once more, making her more lenient in her verdict now that Claude has learned his lesson.

Either way, Claude is saved. Either way, he lives. That’s all that matters.

Even if Dimitri never sees him again.

To be rejected here, when he has torn down this temple and risked war to steal Claude away with him… well, Dimitri wouldn’t begrudge Claude that. It would be the smart thing to do, the rational thing to do. Claude will make that choice if he is at all interested in survival or his own happiness - after all, who would choose an eternity of stone and darkness, when they could have the world? What deity of nature would willingly lock himself away in death?

But if Claude makes the rational choice, he thinks, it might break his heart. Foolish. Absolutely ridiculous - how could Claude _not_ choose to stay? What could Dimitri offer him, other than an eternity of companionship, a safe place to live?

Nothing compares to the sky above him, the grass at his feet... nothing Dimitri could ever hope to give would replace what Claude will lose if he chooses him.

Claude finally tips his head up to look Dimitri in the eye and smiles, a little sad, a little sweet. There’s a bittersweetness to his face, his eyes, and Dimitri cannot read what it means.

“I will be freer with you than I could ever be under her thumb.”

And Claude swallows hard at that, his eyes hardening into a cold determination, his mind made up.

“Take me with you.”

Dimitri breathes for what feels like the first time since coming up here, his empty fingers twitching in a sudden wave of emotion. Claude will come with him, Claude will stay - he chose, and he chose Dimitri.

“So be it.”

He nods once, unable to give in to sentiment, not yet, not if the other gods are on their way here. He has to keep his emotions at bay, even as his heart trembles and thumps in his chest, beating against his ribcage like an earthquake.

Dimitri reaches up to the bars, curling his fingers around the gold of them. Like everything else he's touched, the metal starts to fade away, becoming weatherworn and beaten under his touch, until it's fragile enough that he can easily rip the prison bars apart and kneel next to Claude's body.

“Be very still,” he warns, reaching for Claude's restraints. Dimitri likely can't kill him up here, even if neither of them are really in their own domain, but he doesn't want to take the risk of hurting him as he channels his power and crushes the steel of Claude's restrained arms in his palm, before moving to his legs and doing the same there.

Dimitri lets out a breath and stands upright then, restraining his power and reaching a hand out to help Claude to his feet.

“Can you walk?”

He'll carry him if not.

Loog makes a low rumbling sound, his eyes on the sky above them - a sky which is quickly going dark as the sun begins to fade away, as if eclipsed, but there is nothing to cover it with.

The other gods are coming.

“I can,” Claude tells him, though his gaze is on the sky, likely just as aware of their time constraints as DImitri himself.

If they go quickly, they shouldn't need to fight. But if they do, they’ll both need to be able to fend for themselves, though Claude is getting steadier the longer he stands.

“We don't have much time,” Claude says quietly, turning back toward Dimitri. In his expression is everything: a great sadness, but also an iron determination. Claude’s face assures him that he knows exactly what he’s giving up, that he’s going into this with eyes wide open. “Let's go. They'll be here soon.”

The temple around them is a wreck, shattered walls and cracked floors, the corpses of monsters, with priests and priestesses hiding away out of prudent fear. Claude does not look back at it, but he pulls his power around him, and Dimitri can feel the latent spark of anger thrumming in his companion’s power.

His first steps, alongside Dimitri, are slow as he recovers his balance and his strength. But then he walks more quickly, and with each step vines rise from the ground outside, growing through the cracks of the wall, tearing the remaining pieces of the temple down bit by bit. Tree roots grow through the cracks on the floor, widening them, shattering the stone further. Moss grows on the marble, weeds sprout in the corners, until by the time they leave the temple it looks as if it's been abandoned for hundreds of years. Abandoned, and left for nature to reclaim.

Claude may be fleeing, but he will not allow the gods to forget his power. Dimitri shattered the temple - Claude returns it to the earth, bit by bit.

The god of nature turns for only a moment to look upon his former prison, upon the green of the plants and the blue sky above, the bright sunlight, the birds in the trees and the insects singing their soft songs.

They may never see it again.

And then he takes Dimitri's arm, and looks up at him.

“I'm ready.”

This close to Claude, the vines and leaves that take the temple back down to the earth don't die in Dimitri's presence. A balance, and one that pleases him more than it should. He hasn't seen Claude's power like this before, not when Claude's healthy respect for the underworld means not creating needless things to die, and so this is... impressive. He's never known another god of nature before and hasn't known what Claude was really capable of.

He wants to see more. A small voice in the back of his head tells him that he will, with time. Claude will be with him now. The underworld will be theirs.

Claude is at his arm and Dimitri moves to touch his hand to Claude's wrist, steadying him, tensing his arm so that Claude has something to hold onto. They move down the stairs and back to the dirt where grass once grew - still grows, in the imprint of Claude's footsteps, all the way back to the doorway he'd created, the portal like a glimmering, dark light.

Beyond that portal lies the throne room. His prison. Dimitri hesitates there at the last step as a thought strikes him: _would war really be so bad_? He knows Claude is strong, and the two of them could... there are gods coming to try and take Claude away from him again and he won't let that happen, he'll fight them all, drag them down into hell so he can kill them. They could fight together. They might even win, but winning doesn't really matter to him.

What matters is a few more moments of sunlight.

Dimitri looks up for the first time since coming through the portal and sees the sky above his head, multicolored as the sunset with the sun feeding away into Ferdinand as he rushes closer. Light that can touch as far as the eye can see, not restrained and small like a flame. And there - the brightest of the evening stars, shining in the sky.

Trees around them, far enough away that Dimitri hadn't killed them yet. Natural leaves, uneven and unfurled for a drop of rain or ray of sunlight. He wishes that there might have been an animal nearby, a real live one, but the fighting likely scared most of them away.

He's still, frozen in time, and tilts his head back with a shaking breath, taking it all in. He wasn't able to appreciate it last time, to really look at it. Edelgard banished him before he knew it was even a possibility and he never got to say goodbye.

There's a dust cloud on the horizon, kicked up by the chariot that Ferdinand is riding. Shadows race across the ground as Hubert closes the distance between himself and the temple. They don't have time - they don't have time - and Loog presses his large head against the back of Dimitri's thigh, urging him forward.

His eye is damp when he's finally snapped out of his reverie and takes a deep breath before pushing them both through the portal, with Loog following just behind them. Dimitri closes the doorway quickly and it vanishes as if it were never there, leaving the three of them standing in the throne room.

Darkness surrounds them. A familiar darkness, a darkness that is safe and familiar, despite the loss of the sky above them. Despite the loss of the sun, and the grass beneath his feet, and everything else - Dimitri knows that Claude is safe here. Nothing can touch him here. Nothing can touch them.

Claude’s wrists were in chains moments ago. Safety feels like much more of a delicate thing, after that.

Carefully, Claude rests his hand on Loog's head.

“Thank you.”

He says it to the lion, and he is serious and honest. Dimitri watches, careful to keep his expression neutral, calm, but he feels a storm of emotion brewing deep in his chest.

Claude steps forward toward Dimitri without hesitation, like he doesn't even need to think about it. He lifts a hand slowly, as if giving Dimitri time to pull away and react poorly, but Dimitri finds himself shock-still as Claude slowly wipes the thin tear from the corner of his eye. 

His fingers on Dimitri's cheek are... soft, warm despite the fact that his hands were recently in shackles. Dimitri doesn't think they've ever touched skin to skin before, and while he's just been in battle, just broken a fundamental law, just risked another war and saw the sky for the first time in hundreds of years - Claude's touch takes him away from all that.

“Dimitri,” Claude starts, and then he stops for a moment, clearly wrestling with something on his own, before taking a deep breath and nodding once, “thank you.”

Dimitri’s thoughts, a whirling mess of emotion and sentiment, come to a standstill. Claude stands before him, soft and gentle and compassionate and full of so much life that Dimitri is helpless to his sway, his focus snapped to Claude's face like a predator just now sensing its prey.

Claude is here now, trapped here for an eternity with him. He should be a hospitable host, he should create rooms for him, try to give him some time to process everything that's just happened, the choice that he's made, he should - pull away and create a space in the eternal palace for him, somewhere that he might be able to feel more comfortable.

He does none of those things. He's drawn to Claude like a moth to the flame and he steps in closer, lifting his own hand to Claude's face, the rough fabric of his gauntlet tracing a gentle path along his cheek.

Dimitri shouldn't do this. They've just been through a life changing experience, and Claude has lost everything. The last thing he needs right now is to feel like his stay here is... somehow conditional on returning Dimitri's feelings, but he can't pull away. How could he?

He categorizes everything about Claude's face that he knows by heart, searching him for any sign of resistance or unease. He can read Claude's expressions somewhat well by now and knows what to look for, but there's nothing. Nothing but the god of nature, standing in the palace of death - a choice he made for himself, and how else could Dimitri take that?

Once he moves, he can't stop, can't slow down and have it be sweet and romantic. The impulse is like a lightning strike through him, and he ducks forward quickly, darting inward and crashing his mouth against Claude's, his hand reaching around him to pull him close. For all that he is the lord of the dead, the kiss is passionate, strong, everything he's been holding back for so long and filled with so much emotion that he doesn't know if he can ever part from it.

The connection is staggering and he presses forward, moving into Claude, crowding him backward even as he reaches with his other arm to pull Claude's hand to his armored waist, to slide around him in turn. His desire is all-consuming, hotter than the fire that burns below their feet, and Claude chose him, chose this. How could Dimitri not want him after that?

Claude responds as if he has been waiting for this for a long time. His arm clutches around Dimitri’s waist, pulling him tight as he leans up and presses just as firmly back into his kiss - kissing him, kissing him, and kissing him.

He can’t think - neither of them can, and they hold one another, though it’s awkward with his armor on. Dimitri has just seen the sun, but in that moment, it feels like Claude shines brighter and warmer than anything that the world above has to offer.

Finally Claude pulls away, catching his breath.

“Your armor - “ He tugs at Dimitri's shoulderplate. “I want to touch you.”

There’s a pause, and Claude seems to remember himself, tilting his head to look at Dimitri, his eyes wide with the rush of what just happened.

“Can I touch you?”

Dimitri wants to move after him, hungry for more of his mouth, fighting back the urge to growl in displeasure that he's gone, but he supposes that it's for good reason. He may not be thinking straight but Claude is and he nods quickly at the question.

“Yes, alright.”

Armor may be useful on the battlefield but it has no place where they are now and he only hesitates for a moment before reaching up and jerkily undoing the straps and buckles, never taking his eye off of Claude. He watches him, his gaze intense and heated as he rips off his long, heavy cloak and lets it fall to the floor, his breastplate next, the shoulder pieces.

As he's slipping his arm out of the gauntlet, he tilts his head, his gaze finally tearing from Claude to glance back toward Loog, and commands him to go with a jerk of his chin. The lion obeys, clearly having no interest in what they're doing now, and Dimitri finishes removing his armor.

He's barely gotten the last piece off before he's pressing back into Claude, still clothed, but he works open the ties to his padded shirt with busy, nimble fingers while still pressing another kiss to Claude, and then another. He pulls away briefly to strip out of the padding and let that fall to the ground too, before gathering Claude up in his arms.

“This isn't - you're not…” He doesn't know how to say it and he growls instead, licking his way into Claude's mouth, tasting him until he can't breathe, and pulling back to finally get his fingers at the hem of his undershirt. “...this is okay?”

He wants to make sure, but he also doesn't want to slow the process down, not when they're finally touching, not when Claude is finally looking at him like this. Dimitri tugs up his undershirt and lets that fall to the side too and reaches for Claude again.

He's scarred, of course. Being in a war with an equal will do that. Of all the times Dimitri and Edelgard clashed, they'd left their marks on one another, but the most prominent by far is a dark and jagged scar on his right pectoral, stretching halfway across his chest and branching out as if it's the result of being struck by lightning.

“I’ve wanted this a long time,” Claude tells him, smiling and stepping closer again, “Of course it’s okay.”

Claude slides his hands up Dimitri's sides, touching him now that he has permission, exploring his body now that he can touch it, his fingers tracing curiously over the edge of Dimitri’s scars as they kiss again, hungry and slow.

Claude isn’t wearing armor, just a loose shirt and pants and he tugs his own shirt over his head. Dimitri has already seen his body, his scars that he’s wanted to put his mouth on ever since he first laid eyes on them - Claude wasn’t shy then and he isn’t shy now as he reaches for him again, clasping a hand around the back of Dimitri's neck and pulling him down so they can kiss again. 

His other hand wanders, shameless, down Dimitri's chest and to his waistband, lower, cupping him through his clothing. It’s sudden, jarring and Dimitri goes tense at the unexpectedness of it, his breath leaving him in a gasp.

Bold. Claude has always been bold.

No one has touched him in ages, no one has touched him there since his last mortal lover, eons ago. It stirs a reaction in him, makes him press forward more sharply, kiss Claude with a hint of teeth, reaching down to Claude's thighs and picking him up in a sharp, fluid motion.

They need to - they're still in the throne room. There aren't any beds or anything around here, but Dimitri can't pull away from Claude long enough to try to navigate to his room and his head is spinning too much to try and control his palace now, not when Claude seems perfectly content to escalate things here.

“Want you,” he breathes, encouraging Claude to wrap his legs around his waist while he presses his back against a nearby pillar, cool against warm skin. Like this, Claude's face is a little higher than his own and he stretches to kiss him, pressing their chests together, skin to skin. Claude is warmer than anything he's ever touched down here and when Dimitri ruts up against him, he feels that bright friction again and it's better than anything he's ever felt.

He knows now that Claude wants it too. After all of their visits, growing closer, watching one another, and now this - Dimitri doesn't have to wonder 'what if' anymore, doesn't have to wish that he'd danced with him or went swimming with him. It's real, it's happening, and now Claude can be his for the rest of eternity.

“I'm yours,” Claude says, and he kisses Dimitri again, hungry and needy and so full of desire.

Claude rocks downward, pressing the two of them together, and the sensation is incredible even with clothing still in the way, and he slides lower against him, pressed cheek to cheek so he can whisper this in Dimitri’s ear:

“I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

Dimitri gasps at the heated words and has to bite down on his lower lip to keep himself together even then. They haven't even finished disrobing and he's already on edge, as if one well-timed thrust or touch will send him careening over.

Claude certainly seems to be trying for that with the way he’s moving - sinful, lithe, like Dimitri holding him up against the pillar is no imposition at all.

“Mm - you came down here, to the land of the dead, saw its king, and... desired him?” Dimitri asks, though the question is rhetorical and he can’t help but to bite back a smile. “You really are strange.”

Dimitri steps back then, pulling Claude from the pillar and more securely into his arms as he holds him, leaning in to kiss at his collarbone and suck a dark mark at the expanse of fresh skin just beneath it. Like this, he feels enveloped by Claude, surrounded by him, to the point where he can almost admit that he's wanted him for just as long.

Still, if this is to continue then he needs to set Claude down, which he reluctantly does, just to give himself a moment to regroup. They're not going to make it to his room, he knows that already, but the floor here is stone - polished, but hardly what he'd consider comfortable. His eye flicks over to the cloak he'd discarded and he pulls himself out of Claude's grasp to pick it up and quickly spread it on the ground so that they can have something between themselves and the stone.

His cloak is thick and heavy, large enough to double as an average sized blanket, if a bit awkwardly shaped. Once it's out on the floor, Dimitri reaches a hand for Claude's, intending to pull him down to the ground with him.

“And now you're mine.”

Claude lifts an eyebrow at that, moving to his knees and reaching to unfasten Dimitri’s pants.

“Yes,” he tells him, smirking, “I couldn't help it. Just look at you… I hope you have a taste for strange things.”

And he does, looking at Dimitri with a little fondness and a lot of desire. Dimitri doesn’t know how long Claude has wanted him, wanted _this_ , but he intends to make up for lost time here and now, and so he helps Claude to push his pants down, freeing himself to lay bare in front of Claude, all of his many layers of armor and clothing and other defenses stripped away.

It isn’t as frightening as he thought it would be.

Dimitri knows what’s coming next, but Claude kisses him first, perhaps to relax him - he can’t help but be a little nervous. He's never been with a god before, hasn't been with anyone in a long time, and Claude's fingers are already threatening to undo him. Still, they've started down this road and he won't stop it, not for the world.

“I've never,” he breathes softly, biting his lip and arching his back when Claude finally touches him. It feels good. “I've never broken a law before. I've never even thought about... what it might be like.”

Luckily, Claude's clothing is much more simple than his own and so his garments are easy to slide open, slide a hand into, to feel. He can't get a good look at him yet, but Claude's cock feels as perfect as the rest of him, iron-hot in his hand, soft skin that he knows he's going to be dreaming about when this is all over.

Dimitri kisses him with what little thought he has left, long and languid, and when he breaks away, he moves to get Claude's pants the rest of the way down too.

“You think about those things. You... wonder. Your curiosity brought you down here to me.” He takes a breath, working his thigh in between Claude's own to just pull him close, skin to skin, feel the entire long length of their bodies pressed as close as they can be. He noses at Claude's hair, kissing at his forehead, and just feels satisfied.

“If you hadn't shown me how to think like that, I wouldn't have been able to go up there. You've opened all this possibility, and I - I want more.”

There's a pause there and he realizes he's been going on for too long. He flushes, tracing his hands down Claude's shoulders, fingertips on his biceps, memorizing every curve of him.

“Does that answer your question?”

Claude smiles in response, looking awfully pleased with himself, here and encased in Dimitri’s arms.

“I think it does,” he says, curving a hand around Dimitri’s neck, “I'll give you more. I'll give you as much as you want.”

Claude pulls him into a kiss that starts sweet and quickly turns positively filthy, and Dimitri makes a sound into it as he presses back, tonguing into Claude’s open mouth with his thigh hitched up between his legs.. 

He wants to do the same, wants to make Claude feel warm and comfortable, doesn't want Claude to want for anything. Part of him worries that Claude will regret his choice after awhile, that Dimitri won't be able to give him everything he needs, but until then - he will work as hard as he can to please him and to make him feel like he made the right choice.

He presses his tongue into Claude's mouth, hitching his thigh up between his legs as his hand slides down, presses between their bodies to find Claude's beautiful cock. He touches it again, gets his hand wrapped around it, and breaks the kiss so that he can roll them so Claude's back is pressed against his cloak on the ground and he can dip his head down to suck a mark into his throat.

“Later, I'm going to take you to my room,” he growls, starting to stroke at Claude in earnest, his fingers tightening on each upstroke. He knows what feels good for him and he tries to do the same for Claude, thumb brushing over the tip and gathering the warm fluid there to make the slide a bit easier. “I'll lay you out in my bed and we can take each other apart in a dozen different ways.”

He kisses him again, mouth tracing over to Claude's throat.

“In this moment, I just want to see you when you come undone by my hands. My mouth.” He finds Claude's nipple and lets his teeth brush over it, just shy of biting down. He wants Claude to feel good, wants to make this perfect for him, even if they're not in a bed, even if they're still exploring one another. Dimitri puts all of himself into this, every bit that he remembers liking, every bit that he's learned from his previous lovers.

Gods may be different, but they still have the bodies of men and they're still responsive to touch and taste. Dimitri wants to bring Claude that pleasure, wants to show his appreciation somehow for choosing this, choosing the underworld, and so he dips his head further down, tonguing over Claude's stomach, situating him low enough to get his mouth on him.

He has to adjust his grip to do so and wraps his fingers around the base to keep him steady while he leans in to taste him for the first time. It's... been awhile, but it's not so different to his memory, and while Dimitri begins in tentative licks, he eventually grows comfortable enough to wrap his mouth around the head and slowly start to apply pressure, all the while watching Claude's face, as if ensuring that this is alright.

“Dimitri -” Claude gasps, and yes, he seems _just_ fine. Claude’s fingers tangle in his hair, not tight enough to pull, but enough so Dimitri knows that he’s there.

“Ah, you feel so good.... Dimitri, the things I want to do to you... I want to taste you, I want to find out what makes you beg.” Claude _pulls_ then, a sharp, bright burst of sensation, and it’s enough to keep Dimitri with him, focused, present on his task. “I want to get up on that gorgeous throne of yours and ride you until all you can do is say my name.”

Dimitri moans at that, coming up for air over Claude's cock as he looks at him, meets Claude's eyes with a dark hunger that he feels can never be fully satiated, not if they did this a hundred times - but he's more than willing to try, and the taste of Claude in his mouth is so wonderful that he doesn't think he could ever get tired of trying. 

Plus - well, the things that Claude says on top of it all, the images they make in his mind, he can't help but to think about it, to imagine doing those things together. He wants Claude any way he can have him, every way that Claude will allow him, wants to beg Claude, wants to push Claude down and have his way with him.

He doesn't know what to do with all of that want and so he presses down again, getting his mouth over him and bobbing his head down, taking as much of Claude's cock as he can. Dimitri is using his hands to help him, to keep hold on the base as he works his mouth over the heat of him, and it's enough to slip one of his fingers into his own mouth as he sucks, to get it wet with saliva before pulling away.

If Claude hadn't said that last part, _riding him on his throne_ , then Dimitri might not have the courage to do this, but knowing that he's already thinking about it, knowing that he's imagined it helps him to lower his hand then, stroking over Claude's balls before pressing the tip of his finger against his hole.

As lubrication goes, spit is not the best thing to use but it's not like it's going to hurt him if Dimitri just uses the one, and he wants to see the look in Claude's eyes when he comes apart, wants to feel his legs spreading around him, with his shoulders tucked between Claude's powerful thighs. He watches Claude for a negative reaction as he presses the tip of his finger against his hole, teasing at the slight stretch, stroking to tickle at the nerve endings there before slowly starting to work it inside, his head bobbing down further on Claude's cock as he does so.

“Ah - Dimitri -”

It’s a good thing, Dimitri thinks, that Claude is so vocal, because his own mouth is quite occupied but he enjoys listening to what he’s doing to the other god, feeling as his body presses up against him, easy as anything.

Dimitri can feel it, he can sense it in the tension of Claude's body, the tugging at his hair, how his voice goes high and reedy. He wants to make Claude come, wants to feel it on his tongue, to watch his body spasm at the intensity of it. In his darker moments, when he'd allowed himself such thoughts, he'd wondered what it might be like to watch Claude come undone. He'd always rolled over, tried to force the thoughts out of his mind, tried to keep his hands from sliding downward along his own body.

He's only ever been moderately successful at staving off his fantasies.

Now though, with Claude - a living fantasy - arching and finally coming from something Dimitri does to him, it's better than anything he'd hoped for, even at his most lustful moments. Watching him is watching something divine and when Dimitri swallows him down, he thinks, half-crazed with desire, that even the taste of him is alluring.

Slowly, he withdraws his hand and moves up, dragging the back of his hand across his face to wipe off any droplets of spend that he might have missed. Claude is limp and soft underneath him, dashed out in his own explosive pleasure, and Dimitri slowly crawls over his body, his own need making itself known.

“Never in my long life have I seen a more beautiful creature,” he tells him in a soft murmur, still needy as he kisses at the underside of Claude's jaw. “I could watch you come undone every day.”

His hand slides up, thumb tracing over the rut of Claude's hipbone, the divot of his bellybutton, the firm planes of his chest. He's gorgeous, perfectly sculpted, every bit of him a testament to the beauty of the gods... but something else too, something that he can only attribute to the man himself: his wit, maybe, or simply his charm.

Dimitri nuzzles at him, almost catlike as he covers Claude's body with his own.

“...I think I will.”

Claude flushes as he slowly returns to his senses, reaching up to touch Dimitri's cheek, brush his thumb across Dimitri's cheekbone, just touching him. Dimitri wonders if he’s said something he shouldn’t have, but Claude turns his face for another kiss instead, his hand sliding down Dimitri’s chest until Dimitri feels his long fingers wrap around his cock.

“Hmm, so I'll get to have you every day? I like the idea of that. Waking up to you... falling asleep next to you, having you in my arms whenever I want. Your mouth, your hands... your cock.”

He kisses Dimitri again, an edge of hunger to it, which Dimitri is all too happy to reciprocate, surging against Claude’s fingers at the attention.

“I want that,” Claude tells him like it’s a secret, his fingers tightening pleasantly as he presses kisses against Dimitri’s cheek, looking for his mouth.

“You'll have it,” Dimitri promises in turn and relents when Claude finally kisses him deeply, seemingly unbothered by the taste of himself on Dimitri’s lips.

He hasn't been with anyone like this in ages, has barely even allowed himself the pleasure of his own ministrations, and with Claude - all that he desires, touching him the way he's missed for centuries, whispering to him that it's going to happen again and again and again and -

Dimitri comes into Claude's hands just like that, with a long groan and his head bowed low. He paints Claude's stomach with it, trembling as he spends himself in a glorious rush. It feels like nothing he's ever felt before, and when he's done, he takes in a deep breath of air and rests his sweaty forehead momentarily on Claude's shoulder before rolling off of him.

He doesn't go far - the cloak isn't that big - but situates himself to lay next to him, on his back as he stares up toward the vaulted ceiling with its many intricate carvings. The rest of the world is out there and threatens to burst in with all the consequences of their actions and all the things that Claude will need from him, but he staves it off for now, closing his eye with a long and measured breath.

“...I didn't know that you were,” he starts, trying to find a safe subject among the minefield that they now have to navigate through, “that you felt the same.”

Which is almost funny, coming from him: the god who had managed to keep most of his composure, who'd barely smiled at him, who wouldn't touch him skin to skin until now, when Claude had been asking him to dance and disrobing in front of him since their second meeting.

“You didn't get a hint when I asked you to dance?” Claude asks, mirroring Dimitri’s thoughts. “Or when I kept bringing you flowers? Or when I got undressed in front of you?”

Claude smiles, turning on his side to look at him.

“Anyway, I should be the one saying that. I don't know who could ever look at you and not want you.”

That cracks a small smile on his lips and Dimitri slowly rolls to his side to look toward Claude in turn, to see the way his body looks in the light of the braziers around them, his hair disheveled and yet still somehow perfect. He breathes out a long, easy breath and shifts slightly closer, just so that their ankles can brush against one another.

They're laying naked on the floor of his throne room. This is the most insane thing he's ever done. He could fall in love.

“Perhaps I should have said... I didn't let myself know.”

He reaches out a hand then - the one that isn't currently propping him up - to brush over Claude's chin, tilting his face up as if surveying it in a different light. His gaze is soft, affectionate, and he thinks that he'll never get enough of those perfect green eyes.

“I couldn't imagine a world in which those feelings didn't end in heartbreak. It was easier to let myself be alone than to hope for even a moment that I wouldn't be. I turned away.”

And he did. In the ballroom, at the lake, every moment that Claude drew himself closer and Dimitri didn't let him cross that final line. He looked, sure, his heart would not allow him to simply ignore Claude's allure, but he never reached out his hand. How could he?

Now, they're here. Now, he has him, and part of that feels triumphant, and part of that aches with loss.

His eye flickers downward, hand slowly sliding off of Claude's jaw, as if lost in that melancholy. He can't fight off the world around them, no matter how much he wants to stay in this soft post-coital bubble with Claude.

“...I only hope you don't grow to hate me.”

They're stuck together, now - neither can leave safely. And though they've walked together, and talked, and Claude has brought gifts and Dimitri has shown Claude his world... how well do they truly know one another?

How long can this joy last?

“Have more faith in me than that,” Claude insists, catching Dimitri’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “Whatever else might happen, there isn't a world where I end up hating you, Dimitri.”

Claude's hand on his is warm and Dimitri holds it tightly, focused on Claude as he assures them. He's still not sure if those words will wind up being true in the end, but he wants to believe them, wants to have that faith in Claude that he's asking for, and so he nods tentatively, sliding his ankle up between Claude's calves, shifting a little bit closer so that he can kiss him sweetly.

“I'll give you everything I can,” he whispers, once their lips part, “I'll make rooms for you, lavish you in riches from the underworld…”

As he promises, he thinks of how he'll do it. Another throne here, maybe, a way they can collaborate on how eternity should work, perhaps. He knows that Claude is cut off far from any source of power and he wants to make that up to him somehow, but doesn't know where to start.

Dimitri has tried in the past - he's sequestered his own power and tried to build barriers within it, to withhold it in certain areas so that something could grow, but nothing has ever worked. He doesn't want to promise Claude nature or life, because such things are antithetical to who he is, what his presence does to those around him.

Still. He wants to promise him something, wants to convey somehow that he'd do anything for him, this strange god who chose the underworld over a life of freedom.

“And I'll... I'll be with you,” he says, drawing in closer, his leg hitching suggestively upward, “for as long as you'll have me.”

It's been so long that he's forgotten what it was like to bed anyone, and his only experience has been with mortals. Their exhaustion afterward, their easy laughter, and the gentle and apologetic patting of his shoulder when their stamina eventually wore out - part of it bubbles to the surface now, but he pushes it away, watching Claude's response to him.

He's never been with another god before, and Claude has proven his absolute match in most everything else. A small thrill of excitement trickles through him at the thought.

Claude responds by kissing him again, his fingers on his cheek as he responds with his own spark of interest, his eyes flashing for a moment in the same realization that Dimitri himself has just come to: that his partner will not tire or give out on him, that Dimitri can keep up with him for as long as he wants.

With that realization comes Claude’s trademark grin, smiling against Dimitri’s mouth.

“You’re quite enough for me. Now… why don’t you show me my rooms?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better way to pass the time in the underworld?
> 
> Thank you guys for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude makes a place for himself in the underworld. Dimitri shows him secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look at this [beautiful art](https://twitter.com/dimas_weekend/status/1290178452469866496?s=20) by dimas_weekend! We are truly blessed.

When Claude made his choice, he did it knowing what he was choosing.

Dimitri was there, standing before him, risking all-out war - again - because of him. He surely didn't deserve that, and would never in a hundred years have expected it. It left him utterly disarmed, it stripped all his defenses.

Who would ever do such a thing for him?

And yes, he could have chosen survival over all. He could have turned Dimitri away. But that would have meant never seeing him again, that would have meant Dimitri alone down in the underworld. He has seen glimpses of the endless depths of Dimitri's loneliness. That is what Claude would have been condemning him to, because who then would risk Edelgard's wrath after seeing what it brought upon Claude?

It would have meant, also, accepting Edelgard’s power over him. It would have meant sacrificing his freedom in a way he did not like, a way that could never sit well with him.

And, of course, there was simply this: he would never see Dimitri again.

He knows the underworld is not a place where a god like him, a god of nature and living things, belongs. He knows that descending into Dimitri's realm will have effects upon the earth and likely upon him. But Claude also knows that Dimitri will protect him, will - will care for him. Without a doubt, as much of a prison as it may be, he will be safe.

And neither of them will be alone.

He does not know how this all might resolve, does not know how _forever_ forever might be. But in the end, Claude knew in that moment that there was only one choice his heart would allow him to make.

He knows what he gave up. He knows that even he, with his creativity and cleverness and power, may not be able to win it back. A part of his heart aches at that knowledge, at the uncertainty, the thought that he might never see the sky again.

But the future is yet unwritten, and Claude has already stolen the sun twice. Nothing is impossible. He chose Dimitri, and he chose the underworld, and he did it with his eyes wide open.

Time passes, as it always does. Claude adapts easier than anyone could have expected to life in this realm, and he can see how grateful Dimitri is for that, even if he finds it difficult to express. Claude is curious about all the things that go on down here, and even as Dimitri shows him the quiet parts of his realm - the yawning caverns, the balconies in the palace that look out over nothing - Claude is delighted and eager to make his place.

Dimitri creates a room for him, an opulent bedroom that sits across the hall from his own. The floor is of polished marble, the ceiling has strands of gold that flower off into diamonds, in some soft mockery of a field of daisies. Claude finds it utterly beautiful. There is a small chandelier that provides enough light to fill the room, one which responds to Claude's whims so that he will not have to go through the pain of lighting and extinguishing it as he needs. His bed is large and draped with dark fabric, comfortable and refreshing to sleep in.

Claude does not spend much time in his own bed.

Dimitri's is right across the hall, after all, and though their rooms are similar in size, Claude makes his way to Dimitri's often, spends the night in his bed, and they enjoy learning all they can about one another, about pleasure.

The days pass, but Dimitri doesn't tire of Claude - something Claude, in turn, finds himself deeply grateful for. On the rare nights that they sleep apart, Dimitri knocks on Claude's door early in the morning so that they can walk to the throne room together and Claude can watch his judgements from the throne that Dimitri has provided for him. Dimitri has made clear that even if the underworld hasn't regarded Claude as the ruler of this domain, he is still Dimitri's equal in all things, and so Dimitri listens to his advice and they talk about more ways to expand the eternal palace for the souls of the dead - and for the two of them.

Loog is always happy to see Claude as well, and often nuzzles at him when he gets half a chance, lumbering into him to rub his giant, meaty shoulder against Claude's hip in some feline form of affection. It's nice. It's... peaceful.

Claude feels like he's acclimating well.

He misses the world above - of course he does. He misses the sun and the grass against his feet and the way he could not walk through the woods without a deer pressing close to his side, a wolf following his footsteps. It's barren here, as the land of the dead must be. But he doesn't hate it. There's so much to see, so many strange moments of beauty, and Dimitri has tried so very hard to make space for him within it.

Claude doesn't take that lightly. He knows Dimitri has ruled here alone for eons, and he has no obligation to treat Claude like an equal rather than a refugee. He doesn't need to listen to Claude's counsel, allow him to weigh in on judgments. He doesn't need to place a throne next to his own, to act as if Claude is ruling at his side. Claude cannot explain what this means to him, how much he didn't realize he wanted it until Dimitri offered it without question.

His companion. His equal. Claude may not be the lord of the dead, but they've always been two sides of the same coin - life and death, creation and destruction. Who's to say that he cannot rule here, at Dimitri's side?

It makes the loss easier. It makes him less lonely, especially when Loog plays with him like an overgrown kitten, or when he's pressed close to Dimitri in bed. He hasn't had enough of Dimitri yet, and he's not sure that he will anytime soon. But he keeps his own rooms, despite spending plenty of nights in Dimitri's - and there's a reason for that.

Claude has projects that he's working on, and Dimitri doesn't ask what they are and simply lets him do as he pleases. Dimitri tries to make him comfortable, gives him room to work on his things, spends time with him, and seeks out his pleasure with Claude often.

Last night was not one of those nights. Last night, Dimitri had been weary from the judgements and Claude had been tucked away in his room, working on one of his projects, and so Dimitri had gone straight to bed. Claude did not worry about him - they would see each other again soon enough.

Claude has been experimenting, has been testing the limits of his power in this realm. The palace will respond to him, though not as easily and quickly as it does to Dimitri. But if he is careful and patient and certain of what he wants, he can carve out a little space for himself. And in that space, he's been doing what he has always done best: creating - both things and ideas. He got caught up in it the night before, thanks to a breakthrough, a realization. He threw himself into it, and indeed he's barely slept, too caught up in what he was doing.

Luckily, gods don't need much sleep.

When Dimitri knocks on his door the next morning, Claude answers, smiling brightly and making no attempt to hide that he is pleased to see him.

“Good morning. You're just in time.”

“Oh?” Dimitri lifts his brow, curious and intrigued all at once. He glances around the room, as if whatever he's just in time for could be immediately visible. When it isn't, Dimitri turns his gaze back toward Claude with a small smile. “What am I in time for?”

“I have something to show you,” Claude says. “Close your eyes.”

He wants Dimitri to be surprised, wants him to see it with no preconceptions. And he thinks Dimitri trusts him, so - this will be alright.

Once Dimitri has closed his eyes, Claude reaches out and takes both his hands. He leads Dimitri through his room carefully, to a door that's tucked away in a corner. That door wasn't there when Dimitri gave this room to Claude - Claude coaxed it from the palace, and even that simple action took time. But it was only the first step in a larger scheme, of course.

He lets go of Dimitri's hand long enough to open the door and step through it, leaving Dimitri on the threshold.

“Okay. You can look now.”

The door opens onto a small space, bounded by walls but otherwise open to the soaring ceiling of the cavern above. It resembles nothing so much as a walled garden, because of course - that's what it is.

Along the walls, Claude has contrived to create sources of light. They are not as bright or as warm as the sun would be - more like tiny glowing stars - but they serve to illuminate the space. Claude has had to do without the sun, but his mere presence and the power contained within him is enough to create this place and keep it alive.

Because it is full of life. The ground is covered with soft grass, wildflowers allowed to grow as they please. Small trees cluster in the corners, bushes and more flowers are arranged in a fashion that looks simply natural, wild, but with no sense of disorder or struggle. The plants are bright and so very alive, practically pulsing with it - or perhaps that's just how it feels, to enter a place so full of life in the midst of the world of the dead.

This is what Claude has been working on all this time. In this small space, he's put enough of himself, his power, to keep death at bay. The plants will grow old and die in a natural manner, but they won't wilt within hours like the ones he brought to Dimitri before will. It's a tiny piece of the world above, kept alive merely by Claude's presence, his attention and his care.

It's also only one part of an even greater scheme, but that's still in progress. For now, this is what he has to show Dimitri - and even if Dimitri still cannot touch them, at least he'll be able to look upon them. This garden will not die so long as Claude lives in his palace.

When Dimitri opens his eye, for a moment he looks like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. He looks down at the colors, the life there and turns sharply, as if to ensure that this is still attached to Claude's room in the underworld, that Claude hasn't somehow steered him through a portal to the other side.

Dimitri looks around, his eye wide, wonder so clear in his expression. He makes a sharp move as if to step off the path and look more closely at the bushes and trees, but catches himself at the last moment, holding back to preserve what Claude has been able to make here. Instead he walks in short, careful steps along the small stone path that Claude has put in here seemingly just for him, speechless as his short journey allows him to look at the small plants and bushes from multiple angles.

“...how?” is all he says in the end, his voice quiet and wondering.

Claude is smiling, so proud of himself, more than a little self-satisfied. But hasn't he earned that? He worked hard on this, and at first he wasn't even sure it would be possible. But now it's real, a refuge for the two of them. Even if Dimitri can't touch the plants, can't put his toes in the grass, he can at least look at them. He can come here, and sit, and be surrounded by life.

“A place this small can contain a portion of my power,” he says. “As long as I'm here, living nearby and visiting regularly, letting my presence sink more power into the ground - well, things can grow.”

He's not sure he could manage a larger area than this, especially cut off from the main source of his power. But this garden is like a feedback loop, its living energy giving him strength and his strength feeding it in return. And if even some few plants can put down roots in the soil of the underworld - well, more is possible, if he's willing to get creative.

But he doesn't want to promise anything he isn't sure he'll be able to deliver. Not yet. This is enough.

“This may not be my realm, but I am still a god.” He smiles. “I thought, if I can make a flower grow down here, I should be able to do more... and this is what I managed to do. You can come here anytime you want.”

He doesn't need to ask this, but he wants to hear the answer, he wants a little praise for his efforts - mostly just because he loves to hear that kind of thing from Dimitri, he can never get enough.

“Do you like it?”

Dimitri is careful to keep his hands to himself but he looks, all the same: a beautiful lily, its petals curved, the small stamen within the bloom fresh with pollen, a bright smattering of daisies with uneven petals and bumpy centers... he must want to reach out, but he doesn’t. He reaches for Claude instead, his hand lifting to tangle his fingers through Claude's own.

“I'm speechless,” Dimitri tells him honestly, blinking as he looks around, “I never thought that... even with you down here, something like this…”

There's a pause, and he looks back toward Claude, smiling. Dimitri steps closer to him then, tugging him in by the wrist in order to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Of _course_ I like it. I adore it. It's... you. I wish I could help somehow.”

He laughs it off though, more than happy to look at Claude's wonders, lifting his eye to look at the small beacons of light that Claude has set up, beautiful and simple in their design. 

Claude could say that simply bringing him here was more than enough help, but he thinks that it will sound like an empty platitude. So he just holds Dimitri's hand, stands by his side while he takes in everything, all the green and all the colors in this tiny living space.

Dimitri takes a breath, pleased, and jostles Claude with an elbow to get his attention. “...tell me what it's like? What it feels like, in your hands, under your feet.”

Claude does not hesitate. “The grass is soft - it tickles, especially if you have sensitive skin. The flowers... hmm, they feel a little like the softest sort of fabric, except more alive. The tree bark is rough and unwelcoming, but the leaves are much more delicate. Some of these trees will bloom eventually - I might even be able to manage a few fruit trees, with time.”

Dimitri closes his eye as Claude describes it, as if he is imagining the sensation on his fingers, between his toes. Claude can’t help smiling, feeling a bit smug at his success.

In truth, he hopes he'll be able to manage much more. Claude knows how much Dimitri has desperately missed simply being able to touch things, to feel them. If he could walk in the world above, he might be able to without much difficulty - simply being out of his realm would diminish his power in small ways, and the power of life on the earth above them is awfully strong. Claude should know.

But down here, there's no chance. Dimitri's power is overwhelming, oppressive, and living things wilt if he even gets too close. That's why there must be a stone path, and a bench under a tree, someplace he can walk and sit without getting too close to any of the plants. Even soaked in Claude's power, his touch would kill.

But Claude is getting used to this place too. He has ideas, hopes, plans. And if he's successful - well, he doesn't think Dimitri will mind his experiments, if he succeeds.

“You can make the door go elsewhere, if you'd like. Your room, maybe. Or the throne room.”

“I wouldn't take this from you,” Dimitri says, but he smiles all the same and moves to sit on the bench, patting next to it so that Claude could sit with him, “but I would like to visit often with you... maybe even watch you work.”

He reaches for Claude's hand as if to tangle their fingers together, but thinks better of it after a moment and pulls back. It's only to remove his glove though, which he sets in his lap before touching Claude's hand again, skin on skin, and holding it delicately between his fingers.

“Are there insects? I want to see them if there are.” He seems excited about the prospect. “An anthill, or - honeybees. Do you think that might be possible for your garden?”

Pleased, Claude runs his thumb over Dimitri's fingers, holds his hand with sweet affection.

“There aren't any yet, but - I think I could do it.”

Claude would have to put up wards to prevent them from accidentally crossing over into Dimitri's domain, but Claude has proven that a lot of things have been more possible than either of them initially thought. He would not want to force anything larger than insects to live in this small garden, but he's sure they wouldn't even notice their confinement. They would be happy here, with all the sustenance they might need and a lack of predators. And Claude thinks it would be nice if the garden could sustain itself without his direct intervention - and insects would help with that, certainly.

He's thinking about it now, how he might be able to do it, and he's fairly certain it wouldn't be hard at all. This place is already safe from the deathly energy that permeates the rest of the underworld. All it would take would be the initial act of creation, and those wards around the walls to keep them in.

He squeezes Dimitri's hand, gentle.

“Honeybees would be nice,” he muses. “Ladybugs, maybe. Spiders.”

Though the beings within this garden are living, they are not immortal - Claude's not in the habit of breaking the cycle of life and death. It's part of nature, part of him, and so the flowers and plants will live out their lives and die naturally, the insects as well. All in this tiny pocket of the underworld.

“Next time you come, just look around - I'll probably have managed a few by then.”

“Only if you want. It's your garden, after all.” For a long moment, Dimitri is silent. Claude watches him watching the garden, the life there, this thing he’s created. He doesn’t know what Dimitri is thinking about, but it’s clear he’s wrestling with something. His fingers tighten briefly against Claude's before he slowly pulls his hand away and moves to quietly slip his glove back on.

“...I have something to show you as well,” Dimitri tells him, moving to stand. “You don't have to come if you don't want to. But - I think it's something you'd be interested in.”

Claude’s hand feels a little cold when Dimitri lets go of him - but of course that's nothing but an effect of this overwhelming affection he feels.

“I want to see it.”

He doesn't know what it is, but if this is something Dimitri wants to show him - well, of course Claude isn't going to refuse. He knows that he doesn't know everything about the god of the dead, no matter how many nights he's spent in Dimitri's bed. He knows there are secrets still buried, history still hidden. And who knows what could be in this palace that he doesn't know about? Claude can coax it to obey him with some effort, but if Dimitri truly did not want him to go somewhere, there would be little he could do about it.

He stands as well, and follows Dimitri as they leave the small garden, go back through Claude's room, out into the main part of the palace again.

“Show me whatever you'd like. I'm sure I'll be interested - there's not much about you that isn't interesting to me.” He says it lightly, just on the border of teasing or flirting. To lighten Dimitri's mood, or to make him smile or flush, or just to remind him that Claude likes him, Claude is endlessly fond of him, and there can be nothing to worry about. Not really.

The compliment of sorts makes Dimitri smile wryly. He nods, leading Claude down a different hallway, one that isn't often traveled, one that he seems to conjure out of thin air. Even the hallway is darker, and when Dimitri stops in front of a black door, he seems to hesitate before reaching forward to open it and step aside.

“This is... what you came down here for,” he tells Claude, hovering next to the door. “The first time.” There's a pause, as if he is considering going in with him, but in the end all he says is, “I'll wait here.”

When Claude steps in, the low light of the flame along the wall flickers to life, illuminating dozens of pieces of art which line the massive room as if he were in some sort of mortal museum: statues of a young god of justice, a young goddess of the sky, and many of the gods in between. There’s pottery too, and the vessels depict the two of them ruling together, befriending other gods, providing justice and light to the humans.

There are long stone tablets with ancient languages on them, detailing Dimitri's contributions and Edelgard's eventual conclusion that justice should be doled out by the humans themselves. There are arguments about how gods should not interfere with sentient creatures, there are paintings of lightning crashing through the sky. There is tenuous peace, carved out by more fighting as Dimitri takes a side in a human war for what he believes is just and the queen of the sky lends her power to the opposition, merely to preserve balance.

Dimitri was not perfect - he fought and killed, too earnest, too enamored with his idea of a just world to see that in reality, there was no such thing. He was created as the very embodiment of something unnatural, and the more he fought to preserve it, the further he fell. He was doomed from the start, perhaps, but he would not give in, and gathered power as he aged, gathered a following who believed that the mortals should be governed to be good. Again, he clashed with Edelgard - this time, when he found that she had been preserving the mortal souls that he'd killed in the name of justice.

Peace again. Their history was fraught with it, as soon as it became apparent that they were relatively equal in power. They could not destroy one another - or rather, they _could_ , but they were both too afraid to test the limits of their power, as death had never touched a god before.

That changed rapidly. There was a section that had been blacked out of the pages, painted over on the pottery, but then they were at war again, and Edelgard had the upper hand. Mighty blows fell across the land, carving deep valleys and upending mountains in the earth, until Edelgard reached down and plucked out his eye.

The god of justice surged after her but was stopped by black chains that lashed across his wrists, his shoulders, his legs and shackled him down to the ground. He fought them, trying to rise and challenge her again when her axe came down into his chest and sent him into the bowels of the earth.

The blow was legendary. In that blow, the earth cleaved itself in two. Edelgard's allies quickly worked to mend the earth back together, but Dedue, god of smithing, had stolen a piece that they could not find, resulting in a gap in the center of the earth which Dimitri's body fell to in his death. This place. The underworld.

And Dimitri had kept it all, even written some more details where they were lacking, all to preserve his history. 

Claude walks through the room, talking his time, looking at everything. This is the history of the gods, all laid out before him, the story of the pantheon he's become part of. These are the things the older gods avoided and would not speak to him about. Now, he understands why.

It's a bloody history, a fraught one. Dimitri was only doing his duty according to his nature, as all gods must, but he isn't blameless - he was unwilling to bend, unwilling to make allowances for the humans who worship them. Claude also believes, has always believed, that humans deserve the right to rule themselves, punish themselves, carve their own path. He believes that about all creatures: humans, animals, even gods. So he cannot say that he doesn't understand Edelgard's anger or her disagreement.

And of course it would come to war. What other choice would there be, with a goddess as certain of herself as Edelgard, a god as unbending as Dimitri? Perhaps some of the other gods suggested compromise, worked for peace, but in the end they would follow the ones they had chosen as leaders. There was no god like Claude then, no one to stand outside the drawn battle lines and push for a resolution that was less bloody.

But though Claude's opinion aligns more with Edelgard's, he cannot agree with her ultimate actions. Likely she was blinded by anger, by her own righteousness - why else do something so final, so catastrophic? Gods can dim in power, can slowly disappear as humans stop believing, but a god killing another god? It was unheard of before this. Of course none would wish to speak of it. Edelgard's actions showed them all how even their immortality could be precarious. And though Dimitri survived in his own way, he was forever changed.

He will never again be the pure, unblemished god of justice who once walked the earth. Even if, one day, he is allowed under the sun again, he will always be the god of the dead, and this will always be his realm. No god wants to think of that, of their realm being taken from them, of them being changed so utterly, so irrevocably.

No wonder they wouldn't tell him. No wonder even Dimitri - especially Dimitri - prefers not to speak of it.

Claude wonders what might have become of him, if he had stayed above, if he had incurred Edelgard's wrath. He is strong, but he would not have known to expect this. He wouldn't have known how to guard himself, how important escape might have been.

He brushes his fingers across a carving - Dimitri in chains, furious, snarling. Then he leaves the room and finds Dimitri in the hall, waiting as he said he would, though he does not meet Claude’s gaze.

“Thank you for showing me.”

It was what he wanted, in the beginning. Answers. Secrets. The history hidden from him. And he knows, it is so very clear, that this Dimitri is not the god he once was. Death has changed him - or perhaps simply revealed parts of him that were once hidden.

Claude stretches upward, tugs Dimitri down to kiss him gently, so that he knows one thing for certain: Claude's feelings for him have not changed.

“Whatever your actions were, I don't think they deserved this eternal punishment.”

There’s a pause as Dimitri looks at him, quietly gauging his reaction. Dimitri likely hadn’t known what to expect when he showed this place to Claude and took a gamble in doing so, which Claude can’t help but to appreciate.

“...I don't think she knew that I would be reborn down here.” Dimitri looks away, his voice soft. “The verdict came only after they realized that I had been resurrected in death.”

So the harsh sentence, the reason for all of this - it was a fallback? Edelgard must have meant to kill Dimitri and erase his identity for good. She didn't know that he would take on a new form, as the first god in their pantheon to die a brutal death. Knowing he had not died, knowing what he had become, and knowing the damage that they could unleash on the world with another war... banishment makes sense, despite its cruelty. Still, Claude thinks Dimitri has a certain right to be bitter about it.

“She couldn't risk fracturing the world again,” Dimitri explains, biting at his lip and reaching for Claude to pull him close. “I should have showed you earlier, but it's... difficult to come here.”

Claude presses in against Dimitri, knowing that he must need comfort now, that he was probably unsure of what Claude would think, worried that he might think differently of him now that he knows. But the Dimitri he saw in there is only a shadow of the man he knows now - and Claude thinks the world of him.

“I'm glad you showed me.” Claude reaches up, stroking Dimitri's cheek, affectionate and gentle. “Would you go to war with her again, if you thought you could win?”

He asks it casually, but it's an important question. Claude finds himself frustrated by the pain that has been caused, the punishment Dimitri has borne as well as what Edelgard might feel - because he is certain that she doesn't think of her past actions lightly. And if that is the case, perhaps there might be some room for common ground.

Maybe. He won't jump to any conclusions, or hold on to any false hope. But if he knows, he can think it over, see what might be done. Claude is nothing if not creative, and the truth is - he doesn't hate it down here, but being cut off from his realm is difficult. If he can find a way to create a more equal world, a more peaceful pantheon, he'll take it.

But that's getting ahead of himself.

Dimitri seems to recognize that the question is not as simple as it seems. He has to think about it, to really consider what he might do. He takes his time, and Claude doesn’t press him, waiting until Dimitri finally arrives at his answer.

“...no.” Dimitri steps back, away from Claude's embrace, his brows furrowed together. Faintly, he shakes his head. It’s as if he’s discovered something about himself, a stone that he had somehow not yet overturned.

“Enough people have died for our wars. I want…” He sighs, struggling with vocalizing it, “...I want her to feel what she's done to me, but no amount of war could make that happen. Even if I could somehow banish her to the heavens and take the earth for my own - setting aside that expanding my domain would kill everything there - she could still look down on it, feel the sun on her face, look up and see the stars.”

His voice is slow as he works it out for himself and explains it to Claude, and he looks up to the vaulted ceilings of the hallway, as if there could be the night sky over them rather than just marble and gold.

“There's nothing I could do, no kind of revenge that I could take, that would make it even. And so, the only thing left is... peace, I suppose.” He shakes his head, a faint smile twitching at his lips. “But after I've broken her law, gone above and stormed her temple... I wouldn't be surprised if she was preparing for another war.”

It eases Claude's mind to hear that. He doesn't want to go to war, though some part of him can't help but consider it - think about how it would go, assess all their resources. Dimitri, the god of the dead, with a power over death that no other god can match and a number of fierce companions who once fought by his side. Claude, ruler of the earth above them, clever and strong enough to coax life from death.

They might win, if it came to that. But the casualties would be high, the damage great. Claude doesn't want a war, even if he can't help thinking about it. It's simply his nature - plans and schemes and considering all the outcomes.

“She might be. You were awfully terrifying.”

He's smiling, of course. Claude wasn't frightened by him at all - impressed, though, he was definitely that. But to Edelgard, who threw him down here, who killed him... well, of course it would be terrifying to see Dimitri leave his prison, flex his powers, show how easy it would be for him to go to war again.

Claude will not forget that he was the reason Dimitri did that. He still doesn't know what to think of that, how to feel - no one has ever done such a thing for him before. No one ever will again.

“I suppose we'll find out sooner or later,” he says. “She isn't foolish enough to come storming down here without any kind of preparation.”

It's been some time since Dimitri brought Claude down here. Long enough for Claude to begin to become accustomed to the darkness, long enough for him to carve out space for himself. Long enough for him to realize how much he enjoys being in Dimitri's bed, in his arms, in his life.

But time moves differently for gods. As long as it has been, it's still barely an eyeblink in the grand scheme of things.

“Whatever happens, I will be at your side.”

What he saw in that room doesn't change that. Claude still fears putting words to the emotions he feels, because eternity is a frightening prospect that he's never considered possible before. But just because he doesn't say it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it, and he has no intention of making Dimitri face anything alone. Not ever again.

“Thank you,” Dimitri says. It's soft, and he gently reaches for Claude's hand again, to feel the warmth of it against his own. He looks up at the large, black door of his archives and lets out a long breath, squeezing at Claude's fingers.

“...you can visit here whenever you like. The palace will let you in now. There are more things about the other gods that you might find interesting, and some things concerning some of the older gods who have faded into memory.”

He shakes his head.

“It obviously isn't current, or up to date. It's just what I remember from my time among them.”

There's a spark in Claude's eyes, hearing that. These are the secrets he wants to know, the history he's always been curious about - the reason he came down here in the first place. It feels less important now that he's found Dimitri, now that it's become something different and so much bigger, but he still wants to know. He still wants to learn everything he can.

“Thank you.” He's still holding on to Dimitri's hand, and he brings it up to his lips, kissing Dimitri's fingers gently. “There's too much I don't know. I'm sure it may not seem to matter anymore, but even so - I hate feeling like I've been kept in the dark.”

And he knows, too, that Dimitri has shown vast vulnerability by bringing him here. Likely he feared what Claude might think, how Claude might judge him. Of course Claude's heart would never have changed so easily, but how is Dimitri to know that? It seems clear to Claude that he still feels some level of anger and guilt at everything that happened in the past, and he's been down here alone for so long.

It's not fair, Claude thinks. Not fair that Dimitri has been punished for this long, and not fair that Claude faced possible destruction for no more than the crime of giving a lonely god some badly-needed company. But he understands now that Edelgard must be afraid.

He isn't sure what to do with all of this yet, but there will be time to think it all over.

“If you're not busy, why don't you come back to the garden with me? Sit for awhile. I'll see if I can make some bees.”

Dimitri nods at the proposal, maybe a touch too eagerly, but who could blame him? No doubt the idea of seeing a living thing in the underworld is exciting. “I'd like that. I want to watch you work.”

He starts making his way back to Claude's garden room, though he keeps hold of Claude's hand as he walks, lacing their fingers together and keeping Claude by his side.

“And... thank you. For understanding.”

“You broke all the rules, disobeyed your punishment, and stormed the surface to save me. You'd have to have much more awful secrets to make me turn away from you, Dimitri.”

Claude smiles as he says it, and he says it lightly - but it's still true. After everything Dimitri has done for him, after the care he's shown, the way he's opened his realm to Claude... how could Claude turn away from him over something like that? Something that almost seems trivial in comparison to everything he's sacrificed, everything he's done for Claude.

“Besides, you've been awfully understanding towards me. I know it can't be easy to have someone else around all the time when you're used to being alone, especially someone like me. I... really appreciate all that you've done.”

Of course he still fears that Dimitri will lose interest and will begin to regret the decision he made. How could Claude not fear that, when he's never had anyone in his life who would accept him so easily, so permanently? Even the friends like Hilda he's made wouldn't go that far, as much as they might care for him. The fact that Dimitri has... well, Claude does not take it for granted. He never will.

He squeezes Dimitri's hand gently, pressing close enough to rest his shoulder against Dimitri's arm, one warm point of contact.

“You are a good person, Dimitri, no matter what may have been in your past. I know that's true, because I know you.”

Dimitri leans into Claude, squeezing at his fingers in a gesture of togetherness. “...I'm glad you're here,” he admits softly. “I'm glad it's you. I wish that it didn't have to be this way, but... you've made me happier than I've been in a very long time.”

“You deserve to be happy,” Claude says.

He believes that's true, and there's nothing Dimitri - or anyone else - could say that would change his mind. It warms his heart, too, to know that Dimitri's glad he's here, that maybe he wouldn't want anyone else. That Claude has made him happy. He's tried to, of course, but knowing that he's succeeded in some way... it feels good.

Claude is more used to angering or disappointing other gods. To think that it took this, such a vast change in his life, to find someone who is happy in his presence, who wants him there, who cares about him - perhaps it’s sad, but he can’t feel that way, not after everything they’ve been through together and the way that he feels about Dimitri.

He's lost so much, but he's gained something invaluable in exchange.

“I'm glad it's you, too.”

He can't imagine being down here with anyone else. He can't imagine anyone else making space in their home, in their life like this. He can't imagine anyone else facing down the wrath of half the gods just to give him a choice - just to save him.

“I'm glad that I came down here, back at the beginning of it all.” And he tugs Dimitri's hand, smiling. “Come on. I'll have bees for you before the day's out, if we get to work.”

Dimitri’s answering smile, as careful as it is, warms his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Claude grow more comfortable with one another in the underworld, but never run out of ways to surprise one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! Hopefully the next few chapters will come out much faster. Also, we've done the math and now finally have a final chapter count for you guys!
> 
> Check out [this amazing fanart](https://twitter.com/AudreyKare/status/1305639101228441600?s=19) from our last chapter by Audrey!! Thank you so much!

Time passes.

That's the way of things, after all. Time passes for gods just as it does for mortals, only with less acknowledgement. Aboveground, Dimitri figures that the seasons are changing and imagines that Claude would have duties to attend to, if he were still there. What is it like now, without him?

There's no way to know. Claude's home is the underworld now and he keeps himself busy with his projects down there - the projects which Dimitri figures are to somehow make the underworld light up with life like it does above.

Dimitri continues to adjust to having someone by his side. After being alone for so long, he might have thought that he'd be annoyed or frustrated to have someone always by him, but he isn't. Claude continues to be a balm of fresh life and an unending source of delight and joy. The two of them spend time in judgement at their thrones, they walk along the long hallways of the eternal palace and into the dark caverns beyond. They spend hours tracking a small ant across the stone path of Claude's garden room, laying on their stomachs to watch it - and when it disappears into the grass and Dimitri leans in for a kiss, they fall into one another right then and there.

He'd already cared for Claude a great deal and the depths of his affections only grow the more time that they spend together. Dimitri is more than happy to stay with him, to open up his own luxurious rooms in the palace and have Claude more or less move in with him while keeping a small private space for himself. He smiles more than he has in centuries at all the soft and creative things that Claude does, and he tries to pay him back in turn.

There's nothing magical that the underworld can really do, nothing like how Claude can bend life, but Dimitri opens his archives to Claude, allows him to learn all he can about the gods above, both current and past, and he continues making more rooms to show him, with marble floors and gold inlaid into the tile like a lightning strike. He studies the flowers in Claude's garden while Claude is off doing his research and eventually gives Claude small flowers made of stone - a brittle, obsidian black rose with its petals as thin as a real one which threatens to shatter when it is touched, a glass lily that's so translucent that it's almost difficult to actually see the details of it, a pansy made of rose quartz.

They're works of art and tokens of his affection all in one, and while they break easily due to the thinness of their stems and petals, Dimitri is always happy to make more.

The garden Claude created thrives, now teeming with life: flowers and bushes and trees, ants and honeybees and spiders. It's a tiny ecosystem, carefully created so that it keeps itself in balance with little intervention from Claude. So long as he is here, this corner of the underworld is alive, and the door is open for Dimitri whenever he wishes to visit.

But, of course, he can't touch anything.

They spend most nights together, with Claude's room turning into more of a workshop than a bedroom - books and scrolls and failed experiments scattered across the bed that he rarely uses.

That's where Dimitri assumes that Claude is coming from, when he hears the familiar knock at his bedroom door. It’s likely that Claude has been tinkering away in his workshop for most of the day (the week, maybe? It’s hard to keep track of time down here), and is now finished and visiting Dimitri for some company.

“I have something for you.”

It’s an odd greeting. Dimitri tilts his head at the lack of decorum, but finds his gaze drawn to what Claude is holding in his hand: a clipping of a plant, which he quickly recognizes as a lily, but not colored like any lily that Claude has made thusfar. The stem is a dark green, shading into black at the base. The petals are a mottled black and red, with specks of gray and deep blood red here and there, combining to create a beautifully dark flower.

Dimitri thinks, for a quick moment, that it is one of his own stone flowers: maybe some kind of gift that he didn't remember making, or maybe Claude's own attempt at making a flower out of minerals. Upon closer look though, Dimitri can see that it's _alive_ and that something about it is indicative of the underworld, but Dimitri does not know just how yet. It's beautiful - of course it is - and the sight of something so detailed and alive makes him smile.

“Oh Claude, it's lovely.”

He doesn't reach for it. By now he knows better than to impulsively lift his hands. Dimitri looks at it over in Claude's fingers instead, leaning a bit closer to inspect it. He doesn't recognize the breed and it doesn't look like something out of Claude's garden. Most of the things there are bright and colorful, and this... well, something about it reminds him of Loog, almost. Maybe Claude has a different garden?

If anyone thought that Dimitri would get tired of flowers by now... well, they would be very deeply mistaken. Flowers are maybe his favorite thing that Claude brings him, and the thing he likes giving back the most. He's touched that Claude continues making them and thinks that somehow, Claude must know how much he likes to look at them.

“You grew it?” he asks curiously, glancing up toward the other god.

“I did.” Claude grins in return, but his eyes are careful, taking note of how Dimitri reacts to it. He doesn’t know why, not yet. “It took awhile, but - here. Let me show you.”

Dimitri watches, confused as Claude tucks the flower behind his ear and reaches for his hand. He doesn't resist when Claude moves to peel his glove away and instead holds still, his fingers twitching at the brush of Claude's thumb. Claude's hand tightens around his just slightly and Dimitri's brow furrows, watching as Claude plucks the lily from behind his ear and moves it closer.

And there is the impulse to jerk his hand away - the muscles in his wrist spasm in the slight effort, but Claude holds him firm. Dimitri lets out a soft sound of alarm when it seems that Claude is content to destroy his work in Dimitri's hands, but Claude is undeterred and presses the lily between them.

But... it doesn't die. Dimitri expects it to shrivel and dry up and turn to ash in his grip, but it doesn't. Claude places the flower in his palm as if it was anything else that he might hand over and Dimitri goes immediately still with what it means, his expression one of a blank shock.

He stares at it then, hardly daring to move his hand, fingers frozen where they are, and scarcely remembers to breathe for fear that he'll ruin it somehow, revert it back to the way that all other living things are and cause death like he always does. Nothing happens. It takes Dimitri longer than a moment to start to move again, in slow, tentative motions. His fingers gently close over the flower, feeling as the soft petals brush up against his skin.

It feels... full somehow, soft with a rubbery sort of sensation that he assumes is the water kept still in the very fabric of the thing. He brings it in closer and is able to move it on his own, to look at what he wants to look at, and slowly moves his other hand to touch the stem and lift it as if it were made of glass. (The stem is rougher, he notes, thick and sturdier than he'd thought, but still intensely breakable). He turns it in his hand, looking over every detail, brushing his thumb against the edge of the leaf - sharp, soft - and slowly lifting the flower to his face, where he can inhale deeply.

The scent is sweet, almost overpowering, and Dimitri closes his eye for a moment as it jars something deep inside of him, something that remembers laying in the fields and smelling the flowers around him, of reaching out and stretching in the grass, climbing the trees, running through the meadows. He remembers it, and he's longed for it, but he never thought that it would be in his grasp.

His throat closes up and Dimitri knows he should say something, but he doesn't know what. When he opens his eye again, it shines with unshed tears and he feels all at once, as if he might burst in gratitude. He doesn't know how to express it, particularly when he can't even begin to put his feelings into words, and so he carefully holds the flower in one hand and reaches in to wrap his arms around Claude, pulling him in close and embracing him with trembling shoulders.

Claude gently puts his arms around Dimitri in turn, holding him close, polite enough to not comment on the wetness against his shoulder.

“Now that I've done it once, I can do it again,” Claude whispers gently in Dimitri’s ear - a soft reassurance, a promise. “As many as you like. More. Other things.”

Dimitri feels Claude’s arms rise up against him in an embrace, one that he falls into willingly, happily.

“Anything you want.”

He nods wordlessly against Claude's shoulder, shaking with overpowering emotion. He has this, now, has Claude slowly giving back to him all the things that he's wanted for so long. There are flowers in the underworld, even flowers he can touch, he has company, he has small insects and spiders to watch, he has so much, and it's all thanks to Claude. Claude agreed to be down here with him, Claude didn't give up on him when he was so cold in the beginning, Claude chose to travel down here in the first place, simply to sate his curiosity.

And now, Claude is offering this. More. Other things, and Dimitri holds him all the tighter and tries to imagine flowers that he can run his fingers along, that he can have in his bedroom, that he can water and tend to on his own.

He eventually has to pull himself together and takes a large, stuttering breath through the fabric of Claude's shirt before pulling back, bringing the flower back with him to look at and marvel as he slides his fingers along the edge of the petals. He's staring at the flower, and so it's easy for him to say -

“I love you.”

\- which he knows that Claude hasn't heard or said before. Dimitri can't help it though, can't keep it in his chest any longer. He loves Claude's creativity, the small spark of joy that he elicits, his endless compassion and empathy. He loves the warmth of Claude in his bed, the tenderness of his kisses, the soft brush of his fingers. He loves Claude's creations and, for the first time, feels bound to the other god in a cycle, rather than a straight line that begins with Claude and ends with Dimitri.

He's known for awhile now that he's loved him, but it hasn't always been easy to say. Sometimes, Claude has seemed apprehensive of their bond, carefully skirting around discussing their feelings for one another, generally preferring for things such as these to be unspoken, but Dimitri can't hold himself back any longer. He adores him. He'll never stop adoring him.

Still, he lifts his eye furtively, sharp and suddenly aware of what he's just said, the line that he's crossed, and how still Claude is in return, frozen like a deer before a predator. Dimitri shakes his head once, quickly.

“You don't need to feel... obligated to say it in return. I see it in your acts, I feel it in your arms. Whether or not you feel as if you can say the same, it doesn't change how I feel about you, Claude.”

It takes Claude a long time to respond, and Dimitri fears that he’s ruined this thing between them by finally voicing how he feels, that he’s taken it all apart - but Claude finally reaches up, his fingers brushing against Dimitri’s cheek as he mulls is over.

“It isn't an obligation. I just... it's never been like this before. Not for me, not ever.” Claude bites his lip, his brow furrowed in a way that Dimitri does not understand but doesn’t resent him for. Whatever his apprehensions are, they’re valid. Whatever he’s worried about, Dimitri knows that it’s important - even if it breaks his heart.

“For us, it can't be casual,” Claude continues, slowly explaining, “Even if everything falls apart, even if you grow tired of me, you'll be... stuck with me. I've changed your life, Dimitri, and my greatest fear is that one day you will resent those changes but be unable to rid yourself of them. Of me.”

He lets his hand fall, looking up at Dimitri, and his next words are quiet and honest and certain.

“But even though I'm afraid, I love you.”

Dimitri nods quietly and he understands the weight that he has put on Claude by declaring his love and knows the reason that Claude is uneasy - but at the same time, it feels so foolish that he almost wants to laugh. How could he ever grow tired of him? How could he ever resent Claude for being here with him?

Even in the moments that he wants to be alone, Claude respects his desires and finds something else to do. He never feels stifled by Claude or annoyed by his presence. It's just the opposite: Claude's presence brings him a kind of joy and calm that he hasn't had in centuries. Before Claude came to the underworld, he was a husk, allowing days and weeks to pass in the blink of an eye. He was routine, monotonous, and incredibly lonely.

How could he not love Claude for what he's done? How could he not long for an eternity with him? And when Claude says it back to him, he feels his desire swelling in his heart, filling him with the same warmth that Claude had given him ever since they first met.

“Don't be afraid,” he tells him, smiling as he reaches behind Claude to close the door to his quarters and push Claude gently against the wood of it, his fingers still tightly clutching the stem of the flower that Claude had given him as he wraps his arms around Claude's shoulders and leans in to kiss him. His companion, his lover, his other half.

He's never felt as complete as he feels now.

“It is not my intention to behave like the sun and the moon, chasing one another out of the sky. I will not love you like love adores war, in a conflict of personal desires.”

Dimitri kisses him again, scraping his teeth along Claude's bottom lip.

“You and I are a cycle. I thought for so long that I was the dark and lonely end - but you are my other half, my beginning, and I would have you forever. You bring me joy and wonder with your creativity and warmth. You would steal the sun for me - and I would raze the earth for you.”

His voice trembles there and Dimitri noses forward, pressing tenderhearted kisses along Claude's cheek until he finds his mouth again, whispers against him.

“I am yours until the end of time.”

Claude is visibly shaken by his words but lifts his arms up to slide around Dimitri’s neck, meeting his mouth in another kiss. Affirming this, their bond, the emotion they both feel.

“Then I suppose I have no choice but to give you my heart.”

He says it lightly, sweetly, against Dimitri's lips, and then he kisses him again. 

“You are my partner - the other half of a cycle, not something to fear, but something to embrace. That would be true even if I didn't feel this way about you.” His words are soft now, more serious, and he pulls back just enough to meet Dimitri's eye and continues: 

“I'll be yours for as long as you'll have me. I'll give you all the flowers you like, and trees and grass and animals. I'll sit at your stand while you pass judgement, and I'll carry some of the burden if I can. It may not be my place, but I'll rule the underworld alongside you if you wish - or I'll stand aside and leave your realm in your hands, if you'd prefer. I’d steal the whole world above for you if I could.”

Again, he kisses Dimitri, and now it doesn't seem like he's going to let go, like all he can do is hold on to Dimitri and show him this passion that's grown inside him like creeping vines. Dimitri finds himself smiling at the thought and lowers his arm, keeping the hand holding the flower at Claude's shoulder while his other hand slides lower, hooking his fingers around Claude's hip and tugging him closer.

“You are my equal in every way,” Dimitri reassures him, his thumb tracing over the jutting bone of Claude's hip, “the underworld is yours as well as mine - it even recognizes it.”

He kisses Claude again, his fingers creeping up the hem of Claude's shirt as his kisses grow more insistent, become tinged with hunger. If Claude isn't in the mood then he'll back off, but for now? They're together, there's nothing more for them to do today, so why not fall into one another's soft touches? Why not profess his love for Claude in the most carnal way possible? Dimitri breaks the kiss after a moment, but only to continue his earlier thought.

“I've seen it moving for you. Changing. You're making flowers, insects, opening new rooms. If we could…”

There's a pause, and Dimitri pulls back to tug at Claude's shirt, to try and get it over his head. He doesn't miss the outside world as much with Claude nearby, and now that Claude is creating all these beautiful living things that he can touch, he misses it even less. But still, he knows it's out there, and he knows that Claude must miss it.

“...if we could go above, if you could steal the earth away from the sky - I know you would offer the same dominion to me.”

What would a world look like if it was shared between life and death? Claude brings gently sprouting things into the ash and dirt of the underworld, but if Dimitri were to venture above and stake his claim on part of Claude's domain - it could be disastrous, terrifying, but it feels right to want it. Even if Claude went back up somehow, if he was allowed, Dimitri does not know if he would let him go easily. If he followed, what kinds of horrors would he unleash on a world unaccustomed to coexisting with death?

And - more importantly - would it matter? He would still be with Claude and the two of them could split their domains down the middle, be together always. What would be so wrong with that?

“I would. I would offer you everything, if I could,” Claude tells him softly, helping Dimitri to get the shirt over his head before reaching for Dimitri’s own clothing, flattening one hand against Dimitri's stomach and touching him. Claude’s hands feel so warm against him that Dimitri doesn’t know how he could ever miss the sun. “I'll give you everything that I can down here. You deserve to be covered in flowers.”

Dimitri smiles, pressing easily into Claude's touch. They've done this enough that he feels no embarrassment or awkwardness. He knows what Claude likes and Claude knows his tastes as well. Still...

“A moment.”

The flower is still in his hand. Dimitri breaks free from Claude's touch to move back toward his bed - in all honesty, they should probably head in that direction anyway - to gently place it on his bedside table, hesitating a moment just to run his fingers over the petals once more. When he turns back toward Claude, Dimitri lifts an arm to beckon him closer so that they can collapse onto his bed rather than continue kissing pressed against the door.

Not that he'd mind that either. Dimitri has had Claude everywhere: in this room, in his throne room, in Claude's quarters, but he does like to take the other god to bed every now and again - call him old fashioned.

It's not like his bed is a bad place for it either. It's shockingly opulent, with black sheets and bedding and few pillows. The large circular mattress is softer than one might expect from the rest of the furniture in the underworld, but the frame is all wrought iron and silver, arching up as if holding the sleepers in the palm of some ancient and fearful hand. Neither of them really need sleep much, but they've definitely spent plenty of time here. Not all of it had been merely sex, either: Dimitri found that he likes to simply spend time with Claude, limbs tangled together and listening to his tales of the past, watching as Claude idly flicks clover out from between his fingers and playfully tests to see how close he can get it to Dimitri's cheek.

“Would that I could cover you in something as equally beautiful,” he says, grasping at Claude's hand when he comes close and turning to press him onto the bed, "I suppose you'll have to settle for my cloak. Or - my mouth.”

He kisses at Claude's throat then, his hands trailing down his torso as he licks and sucks at a dark mark on his shoulder. Claude’s hands tangle in his hair and his partner gasps in pleasure at the way Dimitri’s mouth works against him.

“Mm, that's not settling at all. Your mouth is at least as beautiful as a thousand flowers. Sweeter, too.” Claude draws one hand down Dimitri's back, tracing the long line of his body before pulling him closer so they're pressed together.

“So are your hands. Gentle and strong, and so very clever when you're touching me. I need nothing more than that.” A pause, and there's laughter in Claude's voice when he speaks again. “Well. Perhaps your cock.”

Dimitri presses down against him then, sighing in satisfaction when he feels Claude's hardness pressing up against him behind both the confining layers of their pants. Even this feels nice, though - stomach to stomach, chest to chest, where Dimitri can cover him in kisses and little love bites that make him tremble and moan.

He might have thought once, that he missed being touched more than anything in the world, missed this carnal pleasure, someone's hands and mouth on him, and that's true - but even more, he's come to find, is that he missed truly doting on someone: kissing them, bringing them pleasure with his hands and mouth and cock, making them come undone. With Claude, he can experience it all and he doesn't hesitate before jumping in, just as enthusiastic, if a little less sure of himself in expressing it.

“Just those three things?” he teases, rolling his hips forward, grinding Claude against the bed, “I suppose I can grant you those.”

Dimitri pulls away from Claude's throat and the dark mark he's made there long enough to smile, capturing Claude's mouth in a kiss again as he works his hand between the two of them to tug at Claude's pants. He finds enough give under the waistband to slip his fingers around Claude's cock and give it a half stroke, pleased to find him hot and hard and wanting.

“All of me is yours,” he tells him, pulling his hand out but only so he can get Claude's pants down and touch him again, unable to keep himself from touching him for too long, “but I think tonight, I'll give you my cock.”

They have oil on the bedside table, but Dimitri doesn't want to reach for it quite yet. They don't necessarily need it, and have made do with only their own bodies in the past, but it always feels luxurious to use and the scent of it is sweet and pleasant enough that he likes incorporating it when they're in his bed. Instead, he focuses on getting his own pants off, squirming and kicking them off of his legs.

Naked together, he smiles again, less guarded than his usual closed-mouth smiles, and leans up to kiss Claude on the forehead.

“If that's alright with you?”

“More than all right.”

Claude reaches out to help Dimitri get his pants off, pushing them over his hips. Dimitri doesn’t miss the way that Claude eyes him when they’re finally naked together, his mouth twitching up in an appreciative smile.

“I want all of you. I want every piece of you to be mine - I'm a selfish creature.” Claude reaches out, wrapping his hand around Dimitri's cock, touching him. “But that - yes. I'd like that very much.”

Their bodies slot together so easily, so perfectly when they kiss. It doesn't matter that he’s taller than Claude. They’re perfect in the way that they fit together, in the way that they move, like this all is a dance that they’ve memorized for decades. They don’t have to worry about growing tired as mortals do - they can continue for as long as they like.

And love has always been part of it. But right now, somehow that feels more real, more intense. An expression of love, rather than a meeting of bodies. Something divine.

“Come here,” Claude tugs Dimitri closer still while he says that, “get on your back. Let me ride you. Would you like that?”

Dimitri’s eye flutters shut for a moment at the sheer pleasure at being touched. Claude has always been so good at touching him, at knowing just what he wants and just how to move with him. They work so well together - well enough that Dimitri can't think of any way that Claude could possibly read him better.

“I would.”

Especially when he offers... well, that. Dimitri nods a hair too quickly, eager as he gets his arms around Claude to kiss him, dragging him closer to press his tongue into his mouth and make it absolutely filthy, because he knows that when Claude is on top of him like that, he'll just want to look - and before all of that incredible pleasure happens, he wants to taste him.

When he pulls away, he's breathless, red-lipped, and falls back away from Claude to ease onto the bed, settling down onto his back and stretching out for the small pot of oil so that he can offer it up to Claude.

“Can you... show me?” he asks in a throaty whisper, before clearing his throat, trying to be a little more authoritative, a little more like the king of the Underworld that he is. “Touch yourself. Get ready for me.”

They usually can't keep their hands off of one another when they do this, and Dimitri is sure that when Claude starts, he'll be unable to stop himself from joining in and helping him, but just to start with, he wants to see how Claude does it, wants to see Claude showing off a bit, just for him. Maybe it makes him selfish, but oh, he just wants to look at him and marvel that this beautiful creature could ever be his.

“I can do that,” Claude says, grinning.

He takes the oil from Dimitri's hand and bends down to kiss him, matching their earlier filthy kiss - intimate, unashamed, before moving, sliding over Dimitri to settle above his thighs, balancing himself.

“Like this?”

Dimitri’s mouth has suddenly gone dry - too dry to offer a verbal confirmation but he nods quickly while Claude uses the oil to slick up his fingers, the subtle scent of it filling the room. 

He takes his time, though he doesn't really need to. Dimitri has learned by now that Claude likes dragging things out, whether to torture him or to prolong their pleasure is anyone’s guess.

Claude’s breath catches as he presses a finger inside of himself, sensitive as always.

“Ah - Dimitri -”

Dimitri watches him, though he can't see exactly what Claude is doing to himself. He can imagine it, with the slick sound that Claude's hand is making and the way his breath catches like it does when Dimitri has his hands on him.

It makes him want to touch, to reach out - but he tries to hold himself back just so he can watch the way that Claude comes undone. Claude arches over him like... well, like the god that he is, and in that moment Dimitri could swear that all the light in the room is coming from him. His pleasure is addicting, his soft breaths and the subtle way in which his hips shift when he slips his finger inside of himself is like nothing else Dimitri has ever seen.

“You said you want me to be yours,” he breathes, unable to stop himself as he leans up, reaching a hand down beneath Claude to trace the sweet curve of his wrist, “I am. All of me belongs to you.”

His fingers find Claude's palm, his knuckles, and eventually, Claude's own slender fingers. Dimitri leans in to kiss him while he presses against Claude's hand, messy, getting some of the slick on himself so that he can press inside of him as well, feel the soft, welcoming heat of the other god's body, think of how perfectly he clutches against Dimitri's fingers.

It's almost too much to bear. He moves his other hand to Claude's neglected cock, wrapping his palm around it and offering Claude a slow and languid stroke - not enough to bring him off, but enough to be appreciative, generous, even as fingers inside of him grow more daring, slipping deeper into him and feeling the perfect way that Claude opens underneath him.

“Will you -” he tries to ask, but his mouth is too dry. He licks his lips, tries again, “- will you be mine too?”

“Don't be foolish,” Claude tells him quickly, smiling down at him, still breathless as he moves his hand away and gives Dimitri more room to work with, “I’ve been yours for a long time.”

His hand, still wet with oil, comes around Dimitri’s cock instead - but it’s almost too much, hearing that and then feeling the warm weight of his hand against him. It’s the first time that Claude has really said as much, and admitting that he’s been Dimitri’s for longer than Dimitri had known… it sparks something in him, something that’s difficult for him to focus on with the way that Claude is tightening his grip against him.

“I’m yours. Let me show you.”

He presses into Claude's touch, nodding as he slowly pulls his fingers away from Claude, reluctant because he loves feeling him, loves stretching him open on his hands and he knows that Claude loves it too, but what's coming next is going to be even better.

Especially with Claude on top of him like this. Dimitri doesn't often lay back and take a more passive role - he prefers picking Claude up, bending him over, twisting the both of them every which way until they find their pleasure in one another. Like this, laying back for Claude to set the pace for both of them... he has to admit that it has a certain appeal.

“As demonstrations go, this is one of my favorites,” he offers, unable to stop from being a little cheeky as he situates himself back against the pillows, his fingers brushing up against Claude's thighs as he mentally prepares himself for what's to come.

“Like this?”

“Just like that.”

Claude crawls up Dimitri's body, hovering above him. The first thing he does is lean down to kiss Dimitri, long and slow and hungry. Dimitri sinks into the kiss, returning it as best he can and feeling the loss of it when Claude pulls away. He knows that it's because Claude wants to move on, to give him something even better, but he can't help it - he adores kissing Claude and does so with his whole being, because Claude is the most important creature in the universe to him.

Even so, his regret doesn't last long because Claude is already positioning himself, reaching down for him and Dimitri has to bite his lip when Claude's fingers close around his cock, not stroking, but even the warmth of his fingers is enough to excite him. Dimitri tries to behave himself when Claude slowly sinks down, tenses his thighs to keep himself from thrusting upward at the first hint of heat and pressure around the head of his cock, but it's difficult when Claude feels so nice around him.

Instead, Dimitri turns his head against the pillow with a soft gasp, his fingers tightening against Claude's skin as soon as his hands brush against the curve of his hips, but again, he tries to keep himself under control, to not push Claude to move any faster than he wants. He enjoys the odd sense of submission there, the way that Claude controls the pace, the rhythm of their lovemaking, how Claude uses his cock and makes it good for the both of them.

And sure, there are times when Dimitri likes to take the reins, so to speak, but like in most things down here, they work together well, trade off control with one another and enjoy this any way they can have it.

“Ah... you feel so good.” Claude steadies himself, reaching out to take Dimitri's hands and place them on his hips. “You're perfect.”

“You,” Dimitri says, breathless, and then shakes his head, his hair falling over the pillow, “I love you.”

It's all he can think to say. The view of Claude above him, sinking down onto him and enjoying it, the flush on his cheeks - he's beautiful, he's lovely, and Dimitri never wants to forget the image of his naked form haloed in the firelight above him, the curve of his throat, the pleasure in his eyes.

It's enough to make him wish that they could always be like this, together, with nothing separating the two of them.

“You're beautiful. I could watch you forever.”

Claude meets Dimitri’s gaze, and there’s something soft in his eyes, something vulnerable as he watches him, not moving quite yet.

“I'm yours. For as long as you want me.” Claude swallows hard, before continuing, “-forever.”

He moves then, strong thighs making it easy to raise himself up and slide down again, to ride Dimitri and feel the thick heat of him. Claude finds a rhythm, not too fast and not too slow, tilting his hips so that each thrust slides Dimitri's cock against that tender spot inside him. He's breathless, making no attempt to stifle his moans of pleasure.

“Ah - Dimitri -”

Dimitri doesn't respond right away - he can't, not with Claude finally moving, which tears a gasp from his throat as if they've never done this before and he's still new to the way that Claude makes him feel. They have done this before - many times by now, but every time, Claude manages to reach deep inside of him and pull out something that feels so fresh and new that it leaves Dimitri breathless in its wake.

To his credit, Dimitri tries not to wrap his hands around Claude's hips, tries not to force him to move along with him, but it's difficult to resist when Claude is so lovely on top of him. His powerful thighs grip at Dimitri's sides and he runs his fingers over the corded muscle there, breathless for him as Claude sinks down again and all he can feel is pleasure.

“ _Claude-_ ”

He moans it, unable to stop himself from arching off of the bed, his hips shifting upward in an aborted thrust. This isn't going to last forever, he's going to snap and take hold of Claude and guide him at just the pace he wants, but he tries to hold out for a moment more, to let Claude have the kind of control that drives him mad.

“I'll want you forever,” he promises, “just like this. Mine - I'll never let you go.”

He's almost babbling at this point and he finally does reach for him, his hips snapping up in a sharp thrust and it feels so good that he does it again, every bit as much of a participant in this as Claude now, unable to fully lie back and give Claude control when it feels so good.

“Please…”

Dimitri's movement draws a cry from Claude, but once he’s recovered he starts to move with the sudden rocking of Dimitri’s hips, arching his back and taking him deeper. They find a rhythm, one that's impossibly good, and all they can do is move together like this, whisper one another’s name, and find their completion together.

He’s so beautiful. Dimitri could look at him until the end of time, loves to tell him how gorgeous he is, and that's never more true than right now, when he's on top of him with his head thrown back and all of his muscles rippling in pleasure. Dimitri whines as he watches the expanse of his chest, the curve of his hips, and he loves him, he loves Claude's slender waist and the sharp jut of his hipbone and he thinks he'll never be able to get enough of him.

Claude's pleasure is addicting and Dimitri wants to give him more and more, until he can't take it anymore and the only thing left for him to do is - this, to spend against Dimitri's stomach and shudder in the afterglow.

“You - you're so…” Dimitri tries to say, but can't quite get the words out, particularly not when Claude is moving above him again, so tight around him, his body moving expertly because he knows exactly how to make Dimitri come undone.

“Ah - !”

It's just like Claude to not focus on his own pleasure, to try and bring Dimitri off as quickly as he can following his own release, and Dimitri can do nothing but tumble after him, arching off of the bed, his hips lifting Claude momentarily as he presses as deep into him as he can and comes.

His fingers tighten on Claude's hips, tight enough to bruise if Claude was a mortal - but he isn't. It makes it all the sweeter when Dimitri presses back against the pillows with a groan, a sigh, and spends himself deep inside of his lover, every inch of his body feeling alight with passion.

He keeps Claude there for a moment, his fingers still tight around the other god's hips, as if wanting to preserve this perfect feeling of being inside of him, beneath him, with him.

He didn't know he could feel happiness like this.

“...no man or god could ever come close to the way you make me feel,” he tells him, his voice wrung out from their actions, his hands loosening to allow Claude to pull off of him, “I don't think anyone in this world, above and below, has ever felt the way I feel for you.”

Claude bites his lip as he looks down at him, soft and affectionate, with a little trace of a smile at the corner of his lips.

“When you say things like that, it's hard to believe that you're the lord of the underworld. Clearly they got it wrong. You, of all people, ought to be the god of love.”

It's gentle teasing, but it's still honest. Claude moves reluctantly, letting Dimitri slide out of him with a soft sigh. He crawls up Dimitri's body so that he can kiss his lover properly, a real kiss, sweet and longing and full of love.

“The things you say to me, the things you do to me... it's really not fair, you know.”

He lets himself settle against Dimitri, next to him on the bed so their bodies are pressed close together, so he's warm and comfortable.

“I didn't think I would give my heart away at all, much less so completely. But - I don't regret a thing.”

Dimitri leans into Claude's embrace, pulling him down against the bed and tangling warmly against him. He shifts to press a leg over Claude's thigh, wraps an arm around his shoulders, and makes himself comfortable to hold his lover, to keep him in his arms and feel happiness that way.

He's smiling at what Claude said though and tips his head to press kisses against Claude's smooth skin, worshipping him even after the act has been finished.

“I'm glad you don't regret it.”

It's a little teasing, but it masks the sincerity of those words. Dimitri would be lying if he said that it wasn't a concern of his, that Claude would regret his decision, resent Dimitri for forcing him to make it, and long for the surface more than he loves him. But... that hasn't happened yet, and the longer they lay like this, the more Dimitri believes that it never will happen. It comforts him, fills him with warmth, and he sets his mouth to Claude's shoulder again in long, lazy kisses.

“Thank you,” he tells him softly, keeping him close, “again. For the flower.”

Claude snuggles against Dimitri shamelessly, offering him the affection he’s needed so desperately for so long.

“You're welcome.”

He runs his fingers through Dimitri's hair, gently untangling a piece of it, affectionate and soft.

“There'll be more. I'll fill this whole place up with flowers… I can't wait to show you.”

Dimitri can’t wait either. He knows that Claude has more planned - Claude _always_ seems to have more planned - and he wants to be here for it, wants to experience every inch of Claude’s affection for him.

He will. They have forever, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I promise the next chapter will have more Plot but... these two deserved a little happiness while they could get it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Dimitri receive a visitor to the underworld, one bearing news that may destabilize things.

He feels like he belongs there now.

Claude has settled in, has become part of the underworld, probably more thoroughly than either of them thought was possible. He started with the small garden by his rooms - and that's still there, of course, a microcosm of the world above. But since that first flower, that first success, Claude has only improved upon his creations.

He started small, with more flowers, with grass and bushes and then small trees. The more complex and longer-lived they got, the more possible things felt, and then Claude began to experiment with creatures. Not just plants, but insects, small animals. He failed at first, but now that he had the trick of it, creation did not need so many failures before it could succeed. It did succeed, and Claude went further.

He would not have changed the underworld without Dimitri's permission, of course. Despite everything, this is still fundamentally Dimitri's realm. But just as death always had a place in Claude's realm above, why should the opposite not be the same here? And it didn't seem as though Dimitri was interested in refusing him anything. In fact, he rejoiced in Claude's successes, wondered over his creations. When Claude successfully grew a field of grass, his chief joy was not the success of it, but the sight of Dimitri stepping into it - the look on his face, the resilience and softness of the blades that did not die at his touch.

Everything Claude creates here is imbued with the energy of the underworld. It changes them, turns them into something darker. It means that none of it will ever look exactly as it does above - but if Claude wants to see that, he'll visit his garden. He's proud of what he's done, and he thinks it's all just as beautiful as anything he made under the open sky.

He found ways to thread death into life and create things that Dimitri could touch again. He made flowers, laced with black and wicked thorns, and Dimitri held them tight in his hand and stroked their petals as if they were the softest skin.

He made creatures. Small ones at first, ones who lived short and frightful lives, but eventually they gathered strength from the underworld and became stronger. Now, there is a flock of deer in the caves with antlers that rise from their skulls like thorned brambles, sharp and reaching toward the heavens, luminescent eyes, wicked teeth. They flock together and watch from a distance while the two gods mill about the underworld.

He spends his free time refining his creations, making new ones. Now dark ivy twines up some of the walls, meadows of black grass stretch across open spaces, stands of thin gray-barked trees are dotted here and there. Flowers grow freely, and among them walk the creatures Claude has succeeded with: his deer, first of all, who he walks with himself and feeds from his own hands. Insects, pollinating the flowers, continuing this strange cycle of life-in-death. Rabbits, moles, even birds. He hasn't made everything, not even close. There's still so much to do.

But Claude has time. He can experiment, he can ask Dimitri what he misses and try to create that. He can walk through a stand of trees, his lover at his side, and teach Dimitri how to feed the unearthly deer that are as much his as Claude's. He's in no rush. This is his life now, and though he does miss much about his realm above, he's - happy. He's in love.

They give each other space when needed, and come together when that is needed too. Claude spends most nights, though not all, in Dimitri's bed. They walk the halls together, and walk the meadows and the beginnings of a forest that Claude is working on. And sometimes, when Dimitri sits in judgment, Claude sits at his side, a crown of underworld blossoms resting on his brow.

Gods do not really have ceremonies or make vows the way that mortals do, but Claude knows now that they belong to one another. He is happy to rule at Dimitri's side as his consort, to carry the burden of all these souls with him. It's their world, theirs entirely, until -

Until things change, as they must always.

They’re walking quietly together, enjoying his creations. Claude can see the small herd in the distance, pawing at the stone of the underworld as they lean down to nibble on a few tufts of the black grass that he has learned to grow. It's peaceful. Serene. Dimitri reaches for Claude's hand as he watches them and they’re in love.

Until Loog comes.

It isn't often that Loog breaks away from his duties at the gate - it only happens when he has a visitor or some other scenario that the lion doesn't know how to respond to. The last time he broke away was ages ago, when Dimitri pulled him from his duties to help him save Claude. This time… Claude doesn’t know why he would come. He wonders if he ought to be worried. Dimitri’s hand tightens on his.

“What is it?” Dimitri asks the beast. Loog rumbles low in his throat, pressing into Dimitri's leg, demanding his attention. Dimitri's brows furrow as he threads his fingers through the thick mane, and he lets out a soft exhale, glancing up toward Claude. “...there must be someone at the gate.”

There's a pause and he swallows hard, before clarifying: “One of us.”

“Shamir?” Claude looks up at Dimitri, brow furrowing. He's seen no one since he came down here, a stark sign of how rarely Dimitri has ever received visitors, but he knows - from what Dimitri has told him - that occasionally the messenger of the gods will arrive with news.

Claude has tried to put thoughts of the world above from his mind. He misses it, but he is happy here, and more than that - he wants to be happy here. If he can't walk beneath the sun, all that thinking of it will do is make him miss it terribly, and that seems unfair where there is so much here that brings him joy. But now he can't help thinking of it, can't help wondering why she might have come down to Dimitri's realm.

“You should see what she wants.” A pause, and then Claude corrects himself. “We should.”

Dimitri nods. Who else could it be but Shamir? Her arrival isn't reassuring, however - Claude knows that she rarely visits, and when she does, the news she brings isn't always pleasant. The last time she was here was to warn Dimitri about Claude's sentencing, and while he can’t help but appreciate her role in his rescue, it doesn't mean that her visit now will be as fortuitous.

Claude looks at Dimitri, at the tense set of his shoulders. He’s worried, and so Claude tries not to let himself be worried as well, tries to offer Dimitri strength and steadiness. But when Dimitri’s eye flickers to him for a moment, he realizes - Dimitri thinks that she might be coming to take Claude away. 

“Be careful,” Dimitri says, but he doesn’t ask Claude to stay behind.

He’s still cautious as they make their way to the gate, taking Claude's hand and pulling it behind his back, putting himself in between Claude and whoever might be waiting. Claude doesn't protest it. He is powerful, but this is Dimitri's realm - there's no one who could successfully defeat him here. Claude does not think even Edelgard has that strength, not in the underworld. He thinks there's little chance that whoever is visiting is truly a threat, but if somehow they are, it is wiser to allow Dimitri to protect him.

Besides, he... likes it. He knows that Dimitri loves him, that he was willing to break all the laws and storm the surface to protect him, and no one has ever felt like that about Claude before. Claude is selfish enough to enjoy it when Dimitri shows his care in these small ways.

Indeed, it's Shamir who waits for them, standing effortlessly at the top of the gate as a vantage point to see them. When she does, she nods and simply steps off into thin air, falling slowly downward until her feet gracefully hit the ground beneath her and then lift again - but only a centimeter or so, enough for the wind to slide in between the dirt and the soles of her shoes. She steps toward them on a layer of air, as she always does, and tips her head to see Claude behind Dimitri.

“Good,” she says, no-nonsense as always, “I was hoping the both of you would be here. I don't like repeating myself.”

Loog moves back toward the gate now that he's ushered the two of them to her, reopening it and moving to take his position back at the center of it. Shamir doesn't spare him a second glance, merely starts walking, expecting the two of them to follow her. She doesn't seem threatening. Claude doubts that she could carry him off, even if she did take them by surprise and it seems Dimitri agrees. His tension eases just a little.

“I'm here on behalf of Lady Edelgard.” She purses her lips, immune to the way that name causes Dimitri's teeth to grit in anger. “And - well, I suppose many of the others too. I come here, to you, at the urging of Gods and Goddesses of all living things, harvests, and seasons.”

Claude listens to her talk, mind already picking over her words.

“The world above has been affected by your departure.” She's looking right at Claude now, speaking to him. “Winter stretches longer each year. Spring comes late, and summer is barely an afterthought. You presided over these things, nature and the turning of seasons, the cycle of life. Without you, it's no longer in balance.”

This is not entirely a surprise to Claude. The disappearance of any god would throw their realm out of balance - if it had been someone else, the effects would have been different, perhaps less noticeable. But since it was Claude, who ruled over something as pervasive and ever-present as _nature_ , the effects are widespread and impossible to ignore.

He knew something would likely happen. He didn't know what, and he didn’t know it would be this destabilizing, but he can’t be surprised.

Shamir looks at Dimitri then. “And rumors fly that you stole away the god of nature to punish humanity, to strengthen your realm with their prayers and their deaths. That you hold him captive.”

“He wasn't the one who took me captive.” Claude says it with a thin smile. His hand tightens on Dimitri's. Surely Shamir knows that - except, does she? It isn't as if they stayed to make sure everyone had the story straight, to make sure they knew Claude chose to come to the underworld.

But then, Claude knows the other gods. Most of them are not stupid. They know Claude was to be punished for visiting Dimitri, so he knows they'll be able to put the pieces together. This rumor is just a way to deflect blame, to place it on Dimitri's shoulders instead of letting anyone admit that Claude might choose him over Edelgard's mercy.

It makes him angry. He smooths that over with a smile, though Shamir is unaffected by it.

“What would you have me do?” he asks, but he knows the answer already.

“Return to the surface.” Shamir says the obvious, and she says it with terse finality. As if it's the only choice.

“That's not going to happen,” Dimitri cuts in, just as bluntly as Shamir. She regards him warily for a moment, but doesn't respond immediately.

Claude can feel the tension in him, but he doesn’t move - he doesn’t step between them. He must know that he doesn’t need to protect Claude from Shamir, but Claude hopes that he also believes in Claude. Trusts him. His eyes go to Dimitri as he speaks again.

“Claude chose to be trapped in the underworld rather than imprisoned by - her. I invite anyone who wishes to steal him back to her cage to try setting foot in my realm. They will find it not so easy a task.”

Shamir regards him for a moment, almost two heads taller than her, and if that's a threat aimed at her then she doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, she simply shrugs and looks back toward Claude.

“She'll let you go free,” she says. “She learned the hard way what happens without the god of nature. She's willing to allow some... concessions, if it stops the endless winter and the mortal death that it brings.”

Dimitri turns back to face Claude suddenly, his uncertainty and fear readable in his face, but he doesn’t speak. Maybe he can’t. Claude knows what must be going through his head - that the world above means so much to him, that he could see his allies again, feel the sun on his face, save countless human lives and the lives of the plants and animals who are suffering under winter.

And then Dimitri would be alone again.

It’s true. Claude is thinking of those things - how could he not? That is his realm, his creatures, and his departure has hurt them in ways he didn’t anticipate. But Claude has already made his decision. He made it in that prison, awaiting judgment, when Dimitri offered him a choice. He chose Dimitri then, but not just Dimitri - the freedom of escaping Edelgard's control. He might be unable to leave the underworld, but here he can make his own choices. He's never felt that Dimitri dictates them, never felt trapped. Concessions or not, he can't truly believe that if he takes this offer Edelgard will simply allow him to do as he pleases.

But, for a moment, he allows himself to think about it. To think about walking in the sunlight, even under the soft glow of the moon. Walking through forests and fields and mountains, the animals coming to move alongside him. All that open air, open skies above, the world at his feet.

He does miss it. But Dimitri has missed it for longer, and Claude will not trade him for it.

He looks up at Dimitri, reads the expression on his face, and reaches up to press his fingers gently to Dimitri's cheek. He doesn't care that Shamir can see the gesture, doesn't care if she tells the rest of the gods that they're lovers. That might even be better. They ought to know the truth: that Claude chose this, that he will choose it again and again.

He doesn't look at her when he speaks, though his words are directed at her. He looks only at Dimitri.

“Do her concessions include the lord of the dead walking free alongside me?”

Shamir's cool expression falters for only a moment, lapsing into something like annoyance. Because of course Claude knows it doesn’t, and she knows that he knows that. He's making a point, and it will only cause more trouble for her in the end.

“No,” Shamir says, and there is some tiny thread of exasperation in her tone, “you are the only one that she mentioned.”

It's only then that Claude looks away from Dimitri to meet her eyes. He knows that she's aware of the same thing he is: he holds the leverage here. Claude is compassionate, he cares for the humans and the world above, but he is a canny god. He can see, very clearly, that there's far more room for negotiation.

He strokes Dimitri's cheek, so gentle, and lets his hand fall.

“Then I have no interest in leaving the underworld.”

Dimitri is quiet the whole time, letting him speak, but Claude can feel the faintest tremble beneath his fingers, the effect of hearing Claude’s response, knowing he has no intention of simply walking away.

It would be unbecoming for the lord of death to display such weakness and so he strengthens himself and hides the emotions that slipped through, just for a moment. Claude was the only one who saw, and Claude isn’t going to tell. He saw gratitude, he saw some kind of quiet awe that he’ll never get used to, never take for granted.

He loves Dimitri.

Shamir is less impressed.

“That's your condition, then? You'll only return if the lord of the dead comes with you?” She sighs, crossing her arms in front of her like it's some grand imposition and looking back out toward the depths of the cavern. “I'll relay that back to them. But... I wouldn't expect much in the way of negotiation.”

Dimitri frowns. “Then let them come. I'll -”

“- yeah, I heard you the first time.” Shamir shrugs, but she has her answer. “Alright. Unless there's anything else?”

“I don't think anything more needs to be said.”

Claude says it with a smile, but in a very final way. He's made his decision and he isn't going to go back on it - all that remains is to see what the consequences end up being. Edelgard won't be happy, he can be certain of that, but beyond that he doesn't know. He thinks it's very unlikely she'll agree to his terms, but not entirely impossible. More likely she'll find some sort of counter-offer.

Or she'll get angry.

Claude doesn't know her that well, really, so it's hard to anticipate how she'll react. Whatever happens, though, he knows he'll be safe here with Dimitri - it's the world above that will suffer.

It isn’t something he wants, of course. But things need to change, and no change has ever come without some pain.

Shamir doesn't look happy with him, but she's hard to read, too. She does not bow to either of them, simply inclining her head in farewell.

“I'm sure I'll see you again soon.”

And then she's gone, traveling the path out of the underworld with swift, soundless steps, faster than either of them could easily move. Claude watches until she's out of sight, and then he turns to Dimitri, who he hasn't stepped away from for a moment. Better to show Shamir that they are a united front, that he won't abandon Dimitri and that Dimitri will protect him.

He looks up at Dimitri, wanting to be certain that he's all right now that they're alone - now that he doesn't have to put on a front for Shamir.

“I'm not going anywhere without you.” He is quiet, but certain. “I am yours now, and you are mine.”

It's only then that Dimitri finally allows his expression to crack, fracture lines down his face as he reaches forward for Claude, pulling the other god close to him and pressing his face against Claude's shoulder, holding him as tightly as he can. 

“You could have -” he tries to say, but his voice seems to fail him before he can get the rest of the words out, and Dimitri pulls Claude closer against him, the look on his face showing how deeply shaken he is by what has transpired in the last few minutes.

“I... I wouldn't have stopped you.” He wants Claude to know it, and it hits Claude right in the heart. “If you wanted... but I - oh, Claude.” Dimitri presses his face into Claude's throat. “Thank you. _Thank you._ I love you.”

Claude wraps his arms around Dimitri, holding him close. He doesn't know what will come, doesn't know what to expect as the consequences of this action, but he doesn't regret it. He couldn't.

“I know you wouldn't have. You would have let me go if it would make me happy. I love you for that.” He says it so simply. He means it. He loved Dimitri already, has loved him for some time now, but knowing how good he is, how selfless and sweet and caring, only serves to make Claude love him more. How could he ever leave this man? How could he walk away, knowing that Dimitri would be alone, that Claude wouldn't be able to see him anymore, wouldn't be able to distract him from his darker moods and hold him close?

Claude raises one hand, carding his fingers through Dimitri's hair. There's so much to think about now, things to plan for - this isn’t the end of it. But right now all he wants to do is hold Dimitri, make sure he understands that Claude is not going to abandon him down here. Whatever else might happen, that part of Dimitri's life, that loneliness and imprisonment, is over.

“I couldn't have, though. I couldn't hurt you that way. And I don't want to be without you, Dimitri. When I walk under the sun again, it will be with you by my side.”

And Claude, always full of dreams, always a bit of a schemer, thinks it's possible. He can't quite see the path forward yet, but the fact that Edelgard was willing to bend even a small amount means it's possible to push for more. Possible to find a way through, if he's determined - and he is.

“That won't be the end of it.” His voice is soft. He doesn't let Dimitri go, though his mind is already working. “But whatever else happens, if we face it together there are few who could threaten us. Especially here.”

Dimitri nods quietly against Claude's shoulder, taking a moment to collect himself again after that sudden and unprecedented emotional outburst.

“If the emperor of the heavens comes down here, I can kill her,” Dimitri warns darkly, pulling away from Claude finally, to look toward the cavern where Shamir disappeared on her way to the surface. “I won't, unless she forces my hand... if she tries to take you by force, I'll rend the world in two to stop her.”

From what Claude knows, this is not generally how the prophecies foretold the end of the earth. If the paintings and legends and seers were to be believed, the world would end when Dimitri broke free of his chains and brought the dead to reclaim the living, beginning his second and final war with Edelgard and bringing about the end of all things.

He's already broken free of the underworld, though - he did that to rescue Claude in the first place. And with Claude down here, he has no reason to bring the wraiths of the dead above ground.

Still. Dimitri may not have the power to literally end the world, but his presence in the apocalyptic myths is not happenstance: it begins with him. Edelgard storming the underworld changes the narration, but not necessarily the end result. War between the two gods is dangerous - the world had already been repaired once. Could it be again?

Claude should be horrified at the thought of that, he knows. But how can he be? He only just made the decision to allow humanity to suffer in order to put them in a better bargaining position. He really has no moral high ground here. And even if he did...

Even if he did, the truth is that he likes that. Claude has never met anyone who would protect him the way Dimitri is willing to. He's never had someone want him around so much, enough that they're willing to fight for him, willing to do terrible things to keep him safe and by their side. It's remarkable, incredible that anyone could love him so much.

But he loves Dimitri just as impossibly in return.

“...maybe she'll come with better terms,” Dimitri says in the end. It’s optimistic, but... a possibility. Certainly Edelgard knows the myths just as much as they do. When you get right to it, they're the reason Dimitri's locked down here, after all.

Claude looks in the direction of the path Shamir took, the same direction Dimitri is looking. She'll return, or someone will, and they'll be ready. There really isn't that much preparation that needs to be done - even if Edelgard attempted to storm the underworld, Dimitri would know very quickly. And what defenses do they need to prepare, when Dimitri can mold this place to his wishes? Now that Claude has made his mark on the underworld, he has power here too - his creations will come to his command, if he wishes. And there's more he can do if he needs to, living creations, even if the moment they appear they'll begin to die.

He's thinking this all, and wondering at how safe he's become, how simply being here by Dimitri's side means so much. Even if he did not love Dimitri, that would be difficult to give up. But he does, he does so deeply the words are hard to find sometimes.

“Maybe she will. I certainly wouldn't want you to rend the world in two for me.” He says it lightly, teasing, and he smiles up at Dimitri. “It will make it more difficult, when we finally walk above again.”

Like it's a foregone conclusion. Like it will happen.

Claude sounds more confident than he is. But he thinks there's a chance - there's a chance they can make something out of this. If Edelgard sees reason, if they all keep their wits about them.

“Don't dwell on it. She'll come, but no doubt she'll need to stew in her anger a bit first. I want to enjoy your company until then - those sweet words of yours... ah, you really don't understand what you do to me.”

“I see,” Dimitri says, his gaze turning to Claude now, resting on him. He doesn’t miss Claude’s appraising eyes, the lilt of his voice. He knows how to read Claude now, and Claude… he likes that. “Down here, my love, you have nothing but my company.”

Dimitri's arm slides around Claude's waist and he pulls him a bit closer at his side, until the two of them are pressed together, hip to hip. Claude won't leave him, and for that he's grateful.

“I think I have some idea of what I do to you. Do you not do the same to me?”

“I hope so,” Claude says, and he is smiling up at Dimitri, pressing close. There's nothing he would rather have then this, right here - and hasn't he proven that?

He holds Dimitri's arm and draws him, not toward the palace, but to a nearby copse of trees. What use have they of privacy here, where none but the dead are there to see? There will be some moderate privacy among the trees, if Dimitri worries about that, but if Claude ever had any sense of propriety about such things it's long gone. He intends to show Dimitri exactly what he means to Claude, and why Claude has no intention of leaving his side.

_

Hilda doesn’t notice the changes at first.

Why would she? Her realm is focused on the creations of mankind, on inspiration and the painstaking work it takes to turn that inspiration into reality. She’s always thought that was sort of funny, given how uninterested in work she is personally - but it always seems worth it, when she’s holding one of her own creations in her hands. She knows that it’s the same for the artisans and craftsmen that she oversees.

For all her supposed laziness, Hilda does her job well. That, of course, is why her attention is on the cities and the people in them, the things they make and the offerings they give her.

That’s why it takes her so long to realize that something’s wrong.

Claude’s absence affects the wild places first. Without his work to keep things in order - or rather, in the sort of chaos that nature craves - things fall apart. Winter lasts longer, spring comes later, summer is a brief dream of warmth. There has always been a natural variance in the seasons, so it isn’t immediately worrying, and all Hilda notices is that people are knitting more, that their crafts have turned to warm and practical things.

It’s when Marianne comes to her, worried and pale, that Hilda begins to realize.

“It isn’t going to get better,” Marianne says, her voice soft. They’re sitting in one of Hilda’s temples, two young women side by side next to a warm hearth. “The animals aren’t finding enough food, and people are coming further out of the cities to try and find their own food.”

Human lives are short, to a god, and human suffering simply a part of the neverending march of time. Things get bad - a war happens, a famine strikes, sickness spreads. People suffer and die. But the wheel turns, and it all recedes eventually, and people rebuild. Hilda, though relatively young for a goddess, has already seen this time and again.

But when Marianne says that it’s different this time, she listens. Partly because she always listens to Marianne - and partly because on some level she’s started to realize the same thing.

“It’s Claude,” Hilda says. She sighs, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes off a little too worried for her liking. “He’s really made a mess of things.”

“He didn’t mean for this to happen,” Marianne says. Hilda knows that, but it’s a lot easier to have someone to blame - Marianne is just too sweet. “We - we don’t even know if he wanted to leave.”

Hilda rolls her eyes. She’s heard what some of the other gods are saying - that Claude was stolen by the god of the dead. That Dimitri stormed the surface to kidnap him. Even that Claude tried to fight, but was overwhelmed. That he’s Dimitri’s prisoner now, unable to escape.

She wasn’t there when it happened, so she can’t say for sure, but Hilda isn’t stupid. Claude’s one of her closest friends, and though he’s always been the type to keep secrets, she’d known he was up to something. He asked her how to make handcrafted flowers, of all things. How could she not know something was going on?

She’d tried _not_ to know, really. If Claude wanted to keep whoever he was making flowers for a secret even from her, there was probably a good reason for that. And when he was imprisoned for breaking some law of Edelgard’s - some law that conveniently wasn’t explained - she’d known enough to put the pieces together.

Claude didn’t get stolen away. He left, because Hilda knows that he would choose freedom on his own terms over being bound by someone else’s chains.

But it’s true, she thinks, that he didn’t know this would happen. How could he? No god has ever left their realm and descended to the underworld before. Claude’s smart, he probably knew there would be some effect, but this?

Marianne shifts next to her, nervous, and Hilda reaches out to take her hand. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out.”

“No, I -” Marianne’s voice shakes for a moment before her shoulders firm and she looks at Hilda, an endless field of worry in her lovely eyes. “I’m not worried about the winter, not really. My realm will adapt, and humankind is good at survival. More than that, I… I’m worried about what Edelgard will do.”

She’s right, Hilda realizes with a sinking feeling. If they figured out that this is because of Claude, Edelgard certainly will as well. And though Hilda really doesn’t know the whole story, she knows the sky goddess doesn’t always see things clearly when it comes to Dimitri - and now Claude. 

Hilda knows Edelgard. Not well - their realms don’t cross over - but enough. Edelgard is smart and strong, with principles that she values highly and a world she feels bound to protect. Claude’s choice to leave would have been an attack on those principles, and the effects of that now are causing the world she loves to suffer. And it’s all bound up with Dimitri, who Hilda’s never met (and doesn’t particularly want to meet) but who has always been a silent, threatening presence that destablizes Edelgard’s rule.

She’ll be angry, and who knows what that will drive her to do?

Hilda tightens her hand on Marianne’s, just enough to comfort. “You know Claude. He’ll figure something out.” She’s not sure she believes that, but she wants to. “Things will be just fine before you know it.” She puts enough confidence in her voice that Marianne’s tense shoulders relax, and the goddess of animals nods.

“You’re right,” Marianne says. Hilda thinks she doesn’t quite believe it either, but what can either of them do? They can’t prevent the clash that might be coming. All they can do is hope that everything will turn out all right in the end. “But still, I… can I stay here with you for a little while?”

“Of course,” Hilda says, and she wraps her arm around Marianne’s shoulders and pulls her close, the only person in the world she wants to do these things for. The fire burns cozily next to them, chasing the chill from the air and for a little while it seems like things really will be all right.

As Marianne leans into her, Hilda spares a thought for Claude, and for the god he fled to.

_I hope you’re happy down there_ , she thinks, _and I really hope you know what you’re doing._

Because if he doesn’t, this might all end in fire and frost.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things reach a breaking point, as both Edelgard and Dimitri prepare for war to keep Claude by their side - a war which has been foretold to bring about the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your support and patience with this new chapter! Here's to hoping the final chapter will be MUCH quicker to come. :)

The underworld was created with a violent act, war and death and the god of justice's transformation into the god of the dead. It began with a violent act, but since that day it has been peaceful: dark, quiet, solemn. Only Claude's presence has even come close to affecting that, and then only in small ways. His creations take on many of the aspects of their home - dark, quiet, foreboding, fitting into the world that they are part of. Nothing has ever shaken the foundations of the underworld. Nothing has threatened it.

When Edelgard reaches the gates, her presence shakes those foundations. Her anger, her power blankets the underworld. It might not be enough to threaten Dimitri's power, not here in his realm, but it is impossible not to _feel_ it. The souls of the dead quake, aware enough to know that something is on their doorstep but not aware enough to know what. Claude's creations scurry for cover, hiding among the trees and bushes that he's coaxed from the rich earth.

He feels her.

Long before she steps foot in the underworld, he feels her. Before she touches the barrier of it - his power extends beyond the border, if only just, and Edelgard is doing nothing to hide her presence. At the first hint of it, he flares and all of the braziers in the underworld illuminate with a deathly fire as darkness creeps across the stone floor and rises to meet Edelgard's challenge.

Dimitri needs no other warning. He wraps death around himself like a cloak and prepares to go to war. Why else would she be here? Shamir's last visit made it clear to him that Edelgard wanted Claude back, for the good of the world above, for everything - and they refused her. Why would she not come back now, to take him?

He won't let her. Even as he rises to meet her and moves across the ground in deep, impactful strides, he knows that he would fight to the death of the world if it meant keeping Claude here with him.

“Dimitri.” He hears her voice even within the palace, the strong and piercing tones of her anger. “Come out and face me.”

He feels Claude behind him as he moves and part of his heart tugs out toward him, anxious suddenly that if Claude shows his face, then Edelgard can simply whisk him away - but it won't happen. He won't let it. Dimitri is sure to keep himself in front of Claude, to shield him from her and the others that she's brought down with her, just in case they try anything dangerous.

But the war party stays on their side of the border for now, unwilling to cross over into his domain. Dimitri cannot blame them - the land of the dead is a frightening place to those who are enemies of its king. Still, when he looks up, when he sees her for the first time...

For a moment, they're young again, two gods playing in the heavens, scoring hits on one another, fighting and then laughing about it later, arguing and then feasting, friends and rivals, locked in a cycle that has always brought chaos and discord to their friends and the mortals beneath them. But then - then it shifts, the light changes, and she's _her_ again: the queen who struck the blow which unmade him and split the earth in two. The emperor who, on learning of his revival, used her power to command him here and bind him to this land. The goddess who cared so much for the mortals beneath her that she soiled her hands and ruined her oldest friend.

He hasn't seen her in centuries. It feels like even longer. The last time they locked eyes was during that fateful fight... and now they're here again, dressed for war.

Dimitri is in all black as is customary for him, the shadows drawn around him in a wreath of deathly protection, his lance in his hand. Edelgard is in a brilliant gold, her hair done up for war, her armor shining with a holy light. Two sides of the same coin.

Behind her are her allies: Ferdinand, gleaming like the sun with Hubert in his shadow. Petra, with her many braids splayed across her bare shoulders and Dorothea, hesitant with her hands clenched and trembling. There is a weight here, with so many gods all gathered, and the rocks beneath their feet groan with the uneasy pressure of it.

Dimitri doesn't speak, and so Edelgard goes first.

“You have received my demands,” she tells him, her tone rigid and authoritative. “The land above is embroiled in a winter so harsh that Ferdinand's sunlight cannot pierce it. There is no harvest, no spring. I come…”

She trails off there and takes a long, deep breath, exhaling slowly through her nose as if to prepare herself for what comes next.

“...I come pleading with you to reconsider releasing the god of nature to us. To save the world above - a world which still worships and reveres you.”

Dimitri is silent for a beat too long after that. Edelgard doesn't want a fight - at least, she doesn't want to start with violence. Given the looks of her armor and weapons at her side, she came anticipating it. So did he.

He remembers, though, Claude coming out of his archive room and watching him with those large eyes of his. _Would you go to war with her again,_ he'd asked, _if you thought you could win?_

Dimitri's answer was _no_ at the time. Is it still?

“...he isn't a prisoner,” Dimitri finally says, the words almost mumbled out. He doesn't turn back to look at Claude - he can't look weak or like he's deferring in front of her, but he wishes he could. He wants to see the look on his face. He wants to see Claude's thoughtful expression as he takes all of this in. “He chose to stay. You will not take him against his will.”

Claude stands next to Dimitri, but a bare half-step behind. Edelgard's lips thin after he speaks, her eyes flickering to the god behind him. She must know, of course, that Claude has chosen to be here, but since Claude is the one she needs, it's easier to blame Dimitri. It's a subtle offer, really - that Claude could simply agree, go with her, and that would be the story from then on. That Dimitri stole him away, imprisoned him in the underworld, made humanity suffer.

Neither of them are interested in that story.

“You've received our demands as well.” Claude tells her, easy and genial. Dimitri imagines his quick tongue and quicker wit and realizes that his words are anything but _light_. “I would be happy to return to the world above, so long as my consort is allowed to accompany me.”

At the word _consort_ , several things happen in the small crowd of gods. Hubert scoffs, Ferdinand's hand flutters to his face in shock, Edelgard's eyes widen just slightly, before narrowing again, her mouth tight in a thin line.

Claude emphasizes it with every word. It’s calculated, Dimitri knows - that the two of them are a team, are together, will remain together. That Claude is not a fool or a captive.

When Claude steps from the palace to stand by Dimitri's side, facing these gods, he does so with a crown of flowers on his head, black and dark red and shimmering deep gold. The flowers he creates are similar to the crown he wears when he sits at Dimitri's side during his judgments. 

Claude doesn't wear armor and isn't garbed for war - he is in a simple loose shirt and pants, as casual as ever. But the crown, that is a statement. That he belongs here, that he's made himself belong here. That the underworld has accepted him just as he has accepted it - and the god who rules it.

So, _consort_. It isn’t an incorrect term, and Dimitri thinks that Edelgard needs to hear it. Needs to see them here, next to one another, a god of nature who's seeded the underworld with his own power with the one she'd done away with all those years ago.

She doesn't like it. He can tell from the way she looks at him.

“You belong above,” she says, voice hard, “and he will not leave this place. That was his rightful punishment.”

Claude keeps a smile on his face, stays next to Dimitri. Close. “He's paid for his crimes. He should not be punished for eternity - no crime could possibly be that dire. He comes with me, or I don't go at all.”

Dimitri isn't sure how to react when the two of them speak. He wants to protect Claude, wants to defend him, to stand in the way between him and Edelgard, but he knows rationally that Claude is more than capable of fighting his own battles.

Still, he's apprehensive of her and the way she speaks, the way she looks at him... he sees his oldest friend, his enemy, and the reason for all of his loneliness. His hand tightens on his lance as he watches her, but he never moves from Claude's side, never opens Claude up to any of them.

“Deserved or not,” she starts carefully, and steps just a half-step closer, inches from the line that separates life and death, where shadows pool among the stone and scramble for her toes, “I will not risk another war between him and I.”

“-ah!” Ferdinand finally says brightly, as if he's only just now gotten it, “he's using Claude to buy himself passage! Never fear, whatever spell this dreary place has cast upon you, Claude, we will save you!”

Dimitri's anger sparks and ignites into an ocean of flame. Hubert grabs for Ferdinand's wrist to pull him back and get him to shut up, but he isn't quick enough as Dimitri snarls and the ground beneath them cracks into hairline fractures.

“I would _never_ -”

“Enough!” Edelgard raises her voice to be heard, directing Dimitri's anger back toward her. Her will is iron, unflinching, but Dimitri is unaffected. She goes tense, brilliant light beginning to pinch out from where she grips her axe tighter. “Raise your weapon and it will be the last thing you do.”

“You cannot kill me here again,” he tells her, and despite her determination, Edelgard's face loses whatever color it had at that word, _again_. Dimitri finishes his ultimatum through clenched teeth: “Try to take him and it will be your blood on the stone. This is my dominion, goddess, and I will kill every single _one_ of you if you so much as step an inch closer to him.”

In the back, Hubert has faded into the shadows, his pale eyes watching, calculating. There is no moon here, but he does not suffer in the darkness as much as his companion, and the night is intimately familiar with death. He has no weapon of steel and bone, but as his edges begin to blur into the darkness, it becomes immediately apparent that he might not need one to do his bidding.

“Say the word,” he whispers - not to them, but to Edelgard, whose hands are glowing around the molten hilt of her axe.

The tension crackles, almost palpable. Claude won't go, and Dimitri will not give him up. Equally, it is clear that Edelgard has no intention of leaving this place without getting what she came for. Giving Claude up is not an option - it never was. But any of them can see already that they may be rushing towards the brink of conflict.

It's true, though, what Dimitri said. Even with her allies, Edelgard can't win here. But does that matter, really? She can escape whenever she wishes, and Dimitri cannot pursue as easily. And even a war here could splinter the world.

“You would fight me, knowing what it might cause?” Edelgard is angry now, summoning her power. For all that she said she would not risk another war, it's clear that Dimitri's threats - his challenge to her power - is stripping away any desire for peace. Her hands tighten on her axe. “You are no less dangerous than you were the first time I killed you. Perhaps, for the sake of the world, you ought to be put down for good.”

Whether that's possible or not is a moot point. They have both now seen each other as a threat for years, forever. It's possible this conflict was always coming - wasn't that what the human prophecies said? That they were always going to face each other one day.

“- if that's the case, then I will be the one to do it!” And Edelgard's hands flare with power, her axe alight with it, as she raises it and brings it down. She's too far to hit either of them, but that doesn't matter - a shockwave of power bursts from that swing, cracking the walls of the cave and the nearby walls within the underworld.

Claude is not garbed for war, but that doesn't mean he isn't ready for it. Hasn't he been seeding his power in this place since the beginning? It was for Dimitri, to make him smile. For himself, to bring some of his realm above here, make it more like home. But in that moment, Dimitri realizes that it was also for a moment like this. Edelgard has allies. Dimitri has only Claude.

It grows in his hand in less than a moment - a bow of living wood. He fires only one arrow, but Claude has always been a patron of archers, watching over them in his homeland and here. He strikes true, and the arrow impacts Hubert's shoulder as the shadows rise around him, reaching for Dimitri. Hubert stumbles back with a hiss of pain, his control fracturing, his shadows scattering.

Claude strikes Hubert before Dimitri even knows that the shadowy god is preparing an offensive, and as he watches Hubert stumble back, he finds himself appreciating that Claude is so clever, so focused, and entirely on his side.

Behind Edelgard, Ferdinand cries out and draws his sword. Petra's eyes flicker between Claude - Dimitri thinks that they had been friends at one point - and Edelgard, and then her own bow is in her hands. Dorothea hesitates, but her back straightens, her power gathering around her.

The two of them against a half dozen other gods, each of them stronger than a mortal army in their own right. Dimitri does not believe that he can die here again - not in his domain, where death feeds into his power and his own death would likely just make him stronger - but Edelgard seems to disagree. He doesn't want to test their difference of opinion here and doesn't intend to give her an opening.

The shadows which form his lance tighten into black steel and he brings it up to block her blow, the clash of blades ringing out like a symphony in the walls around him. She presses in closer and Dimitri meets her eyes from over the steel of their blades: every bit as determined to end this as she once was.

“I would burn the world down before I let him be your prisoner again,” he hisses, keeping her at bay, but only _just_. Edelgard is stronger than she was back then, and their arms shake with the pressure they're exerting on one another.

From behind them, shadows rise up from the ground, blue and black and bottle-green. The wraiths assemble themselves into the shape of men and jerk into place as tendons form, muscle and bone and steel threading together like twine from the very fabric of the underworld itself. Petra turns toward them, alarmed, and raises her own bow but the arrow flies straight through the shade and pierces the ground on the other side.

Dimitri spins and attempts to spear Edelgard through, but is blocked again - he pushes and blows her backward, the impact sending her staggering as death rushes to his side to aid him and Claude.

Daunted, but not beaten, Edelgard whips her head to Ferdinand and gives him some kind of signal. When he lifts his arm in response, the very ground quakes with it, as all the power of the sun burrows into the earth and tears through stone and soil to pierce the ceiling of the underworld in a jagged circle, cascading light down into the depths of the tunnels.

The light is all they need. Dorothea steps back and takes a deep breath and begins to sing, her voice bending the light and weaving it through the darkened corners of the cave. Dimitri snarls and it becomes accessible to their assailants - Edelgard grasps onto it, solidifies her stance with the power from her own domain, as Ferdinand slashes his sword through it, his steel bursting into bright flames.

“Don't think I didn't come down here without a fallback plan,” Edelgard warns them both strictly, drawing strength before crossing the line again, confident as she slams her axe toward Dimitri. It's easily telegraphed and he doesn't let it pierce him, but the force of the blow sends him flying back, slamming into the wall with enough force to crack the stone behind him.

The force of the impact knocks the wind out of him, but he's far from defeated. Shadows slip toward him again, the spirits whisper in his ear, and Dimitri opens one icy blue eye and presses his palm to the ground to get back up.

“Come on,” he says, drawing more power around him as he straightens himself, his mouth twitching into a humorless smile as he fixes his gaze on her, “you've hit me harder than _that._ ”

And with that, he moves - though it could barely be called _movement_ \- he snaps along the shadows, faster than humanly possible and slams into her, his lance thrust barely parried in time, scouring a deep mark into her armor nevertheless.

The other gods move to intervene, but they're set upon suddenly by the newly-assembled undead wraiths, who cross the line now that Dimitri has issued his order to turn the fight into an all-out war.

-

Dimitri's strength here in his own realm is almost unimaginable, but standing alone against Edelgard and her followers might not be possible even for him. Of course, Claude has no intention of allowing him to stand alone. He draws upon his own power, spinning arrows from living wood and shooting his bow with unerring accuracy. He is not a war god - but survival is a vital part of nature, and that's always been a deeply rooted part of Claude, as well.

He will survive, and he will not allow Dimitri to fall either. And so he does not hesitate to enter the chaos alongside him.

Edelgard's allies tear into Dimitri's wraiths, Ferdinand's sword as bright as the sun. Dorothea's song rises above the sound of the clash, and even Claude can feel it tug at his edges. Not quite strong enough to shred a god, it destabilizes the wraiths, making them easier prey for Petra, now wielding a hunting lance and fighting fiercely. Hubert lurks in the shadows, sending out his own power, watching for moments of weakness and taking advantage of them.

Claude strikes where he can. He nearly puts an arrow through Dorothea's eye, breaking her concentration and ending her song as she is forced to protect herself instead. He sends roots up Ferdinand's ankles, tripping him, sending him into the arms of Dimitri's wraiths. He wins free, sword shining, but not without effort.

Fighting between gods is not unheard of. Individual grudges, larger disagreements, conflict over one god's sphere beginning to encroach upon another. In the normal way of things, fighting can be fierce and painful, but gods cannot die so easily. They fight until one is defeated, but both walk away, wounds mending and power slowly returning. That's how it has always been - except once. And that once is what made this place, and Claude realizes as he's nocking another arrow that he does not know if those rules are the same here.

If he puts an arrow through Hubert's throat, will he fall and never rise again? Will death take Petra if the wraiths make it past her defenses?

Dark magic rises around him - Hubert's, blocking his vision and draining his strength - and Claude summons a whirlwind of leaves to dispel it. But if he wasn't able to, would he fall too? Would he become a shade here?

He lets his arrow fly, mind still working, and it grazes Petra's thigh, distracting her as she pulls her lance from the belly of a wraith. She turns, as if to engage Claude, and then the world around them shakes.

While Claude has been distracting Edelgard's followers, Dimitri and Edelgard have been fighting. It's a wondrous thing, and some part of Claude wishes he could merely watch. They know each other so well, they've fought time and time again, and it shows. They match each other blow for blow, Edelgard's axe ringing as Dimitri blocks it with his shadowy lance. She fights with precision and overwhelming strength - Dimitri is just as strong, but he is wilder, more unfettered. He throws himself at her, and she grits her teeth and pushes back, and their power breaks over all those around them in waves.

It breaks over the world, too. Over Dimitri's realm, and the world above, and Claude has no doubt that the effects of this clash are even rushing through Edelgard's palace in the skies. It's a tearing, an undoing.

Petra falls to her knees, knocked off balance, and her eyes - meeting Claude's - widen. Dimitri and Edelgard are too engrossed in their conflict, their anger, this grudge that has festered for years. They don't notice what they're doing or what effect it's having. The world shakes again, the ceiling above them cracks, and Claude knows he has to do something. If this continues, the world above will be what suffers. He doesn't know how far it will go, what the end result will be, but with this level of power it will almost certainly be cataclysmic.

He can see that Edelgard's followers are realizing as well. But their leader does not heed them, too focused on her anger, on her opponent. Dimitri drives his lance into the ground at her feet, knocking her back, and the earth shudders. Claude feels it in his spine, feels the power he's embedded in this place shaking with it, and he moves.

There's no time for clever plans. There's no time for Claude to be careful. He always has been - he's always hidden the extent of his power. It's the logical thing to do, being such a newcomer, knowing that he's distrusted. And then down here, with Dimitri, he was cut off from most of it. But he's created so much here, and with the sun bursting through from above even _that_ power is within his reach.

So he pulls his power around him. The bow fades away, and he steps - barehanded, unarmored - between Edelgard and Dimitri.

Dimitri will hold his blow, Claude believes that. But Edelgard might not, and Claude needs this all to end, and he needs it to end _now_ , before the earth above suffers any more damage. So he calls on everything he has. As he walks, grass grows in his footsteps, flowers bloom. Even there in the underworld, life emerges, bright and impossible. Vines grow, wrapping around Edelgard's axe and Dimitri's lance. It all happens in a moment, and then it spreads, tangling around Ferdinand, Hubert, Petra. Dorothea steps back, lowering her hands.

Claude walks between the goddess of the sky and the god of the underworld, the only one who could hope to match their power, and he lets himself breathe in, lets his own godly nature flow freely. He won't be able to hold them forever, but he's strong enough to hold them for now. Long enough to - hopefully, maybe - find a better way.

“Enough,” he says. His eyes glow, the green of growing things. “Will you end the world over this grudge?”

__

_-_

There. A mark against her armor. _There._ A fleck of blood from a cutting wound that seals itself with light. Dimitri's own injuries mean nothing. He has never feared death. Perhaps once that was a folly, perhaps once he could have died, but not now. Here, shrouded by death, Dimitri's heart will restart again as many times as he needs. He believes that and it drives him forward, wild as he shatters the stone wall of the cavern and spins to deflect Edelgard's retaliating blow.

She's stronger now, but so is he. He can sense the moment she realizes it, and they fall into their old pattern again. He knows her tricks, she knows his, and he's blind to everything but the fight happening before him. He sends her flying and calls his power again as a tower fragments in his palace, crumbling to nothing so that the power holding it up can rush to Dimitri's aid. No matter.

He readies his lance again when Claude rushes between them.

It would be a perfect opportunity. Reform a new lance from shadow and strike while Edelgard's weapon is caught in Claude's vines. Throw it past Claude's head and straight into hers - he feels the impulse to do so like lightning in his spine, but he wrenches himself back from the brink of it and stays forcibly rooted to the spot.

He could miss. He could hit Claude. And Claude... _oh_ , he's a vision of beauty, splitting the battlefield down the middle with flowers and branches and growing things. Dimitri had always considered the possibility that Claude was holding back something of himself all this time - after all, not many gods could come down here and not feel death stinging after them like nettles, not many gods could reshape the underworld, not many gods could steal the sun - but now he knows it was true.

 _This_ is what he's held back. While Dimitri let his power flow around him to intimidate and frankly because he never cared to restrain it, Claude bottled it up tight, let others underestimate him, and waited for the right moment.

This is that moment.

But.

“I would end the world for you,” he tells him and just as Claude waxes in his power, Dimitri wanes. The shadows drip from his spear as he takes his hand off of it, leaving it tangled in Claude's thickened vines. The wraiths - what few of them are still standing - go still and parts of their edges fade as power seeps from them, and the pressure, the damnable _pressure_ of death recedes.

Just for this. Just for Claude.

“I would end the world and keep you with me, here... safe. Free to -” he pauses for a moment and his eye cuts to Edelgard. This isn't for her to hear, but he must say it. “- to grow your flowers and tend to our garden together.”

There's a pause. Edelgard is watching him with something odd in her expression, but says nothing. Hubert is watching Edelgard for some call on what to do. Dorothea is crying silently, her hair in tangles, a shining cut on her cheek.

Edelgard looks over her war party, the ones who came down here with her, and looks toward Claude.

Weakly, she tries one last time.

“You can't stay here,” she tells him, “all life above ends, either way.”

And here is the precarious position that Edelgard is now in, the stalemate that tips her hand. If Claude refuses and Edelgard leaves, the eternal winter claims the world above. If Claude refuses and Edelgard pushes the issue, Dimitri tears down the world to keep him here.

Either way, she loses. Either way, everything she loves goes up in flames. For the first time in a long time, Dimitri does not envy her position.

Claude speaks up gently, his gaze never leaving Dimitri’s face. “I don't want you to end the world. You deserve better than that - you deserve better than all of this.”

He looks at Edelgard then, with everyone in the room acutely aware of how backed into a corner she really is. And she’s stubborn, she’s is strong-willed and angry - but she's not stupid. She's not arrogant to the point of destruction. She never has been.

“So I won't stay.” Claude says finally, his eyes sharp as he watches her, “I'll return above for part of the year, and I'll bring the spring with me, and I will bring Dimitri as well. In winter, I'll return here and everything above will be yours for a time.”

Claude evenly looks over all the others, from Dorothea to Petra to Hubert, and nods.

“The three of us can live at peace. There ought to be a balance to things - the skies above, the earth below, and death at the end of it all. We don't need to be in conflict.”

Dimitri watches as Claude tries to reason with Edelgard, terrifying and bright in equal measures. He knows what rests in the balance here - they all do. Dimitri may want to go up to the surface again, may want to see the sky and the grass and all the feathered animals as he remembers them, but he would not push to bargain for that here. His only concern is Claude: that Claude is not forced into a situation he hates, that Claude is happy at the end of all this.

His own desires... well, they aren't worth ending the world for. They never have been, or he'd have pushed through his boundary long ago. He was never _selfish_ , as both justice and death are incapable of such feeling, but he burns with longing to see the world that was locked away from him.

Not enough to break the law of the gods. Not enough to go to war. But enough so that, when Claude leverages his freedom against the end of the world, Dimitri loves him so much that it aches deep in his chest, loves him so much that it almost feels like a sadness, that he will never be complete again unless Claude is at his side.

But he will be. No matter how they end this, he will be.

Edelgard is looking at him, he realizes suddenly. How long has she been watching him? This entire time, he'd only been looking at Claude, his heart open, his posture unguarded. If Hubert had desired, he likely could have struck the killing blow there - but Edelgard must have stopped him.

Edelgard, whose mouth is closed tight, her brow furrowed in thought as she races to understand this thing between the two of them, as she arrives to the inevitable conclusion that Dimitri will do whatever Claude asks of him, will stop his war for him, will bend to him as the reeds bend to the wind.

That the Dimitri she knew, one of limitless power and rage and war - is gone, and the god in his place can be reasoned with. Can be calmed.

Can be controlled.

“...is this agreeable to you?” she finally asks Dimitri, and only her ironclad control over herself stops her voice from wavering. “You know that I condemned you here because our next war would bring an end to all things. I banished you here because war was inevitable, the way we were. My brother -” her voice finally breaks on that word, almost imperceptible, but there, “- I have learned a great many things since that day. As have you, I now see."

Dimitri doesn't answer her straight away. He looks back toward Claude for guidance, because this - this seems to be going the way he wants it.

“It's because of him,” he tells her, without taking his gaze off of Claude, still between them. Edelgard sees it now, but she still asks:

“You love him?”

The question is too forward, too direct. Dorothea, who knows something of love - for all that love and song are so closely related - she gasps at the sudden question, her delicate hand pressed over her mouth.

Dimitri simply nods, choosing not to respond in words, but there is no question as to the truth of that statement in the way he watches Claude.

“...I will do as he says,” Dimitri tells her, his voice rough but genuine, “whatever he says. I have too many responsibilities here to leave for months at a time, but I would like to - if it is permitted -”

He finally looks away, a weakness. One that can be exploited maybe, but they're so _close_.

“- I want to walk the earth again. With him.”

“We can build something new.” Claude says it quietly but with certainty. “There can be a balance between us.”

Now that it seems they won't fight, that they can talk - now that they're close to some kind of an agreement, maybe - Claude withdraws his power. The vines holding the other gods back fall away, soon to be nothing but dust beneath the underworld's press of death. He looks between Edelgard and Dimitri, and then walks to Dimitri's side, taking his place there.

Edelgard is quiet for a long time. In truth, the balance shifted long ago, and she knows that. She has always done what she thought was right, and imprisoning Dimitri here _was_ right. It was what needed to happen in order to avoid a war. But now they're on the brink of that war, and while she would like to blame him, or even Claude - she knows they are not the only ones who brought this about.

Agreeing to this would be giving up some of her power. It would be a defeat, in a way. But Edelgard did not claim her power because she wanted it - she always did it because she believed it was necessary.

Perhaps things can be different.

“Myself in the heavens, you on the earth below, and Dimitri here in the depths...”

It would be balanced, she thinks, though how far that goes remains to be seen - since Claude and Dimitri will clearly always side with one another. But if they truly want peace, that shouldn't matter.

In the end, what choice does she have? It's this or a war that might destroy everything. And if, in choosing this, she has the chance to change things for the better... to rebuild, to reach out to one lost for so long - would that not be the right thing to do?

She takes a breath.

“I agree.”

Dorothea, who has never wanted war, gasps softly. Ferdinand looks shocked, but Hubert - Hubert looks like perhaps he suspected this outcome from the moment Claude stepped forward. And maybe he did. Petra only nods, approving.

Claude smiles.

Dimitri is careful to remain quiet throughout Claude's negotiations, almost disbelieving that it could be true. That Claude - clever Claude, with all of his schemes and brilliance - could orchestrate something like _this_. If anyone could do it, Claude could, but even that seemed so outside of the realm of possibility that Dimitri hadn't dared consider it.

Freedom... the kind of freedom that Claude used to have, the kind that Dimitri has dreamt of for as long as he's been down here. The ability to walk the earth, to talk with his allies again, and to see all the brilliant colors of the heavens once more. It's so close that he can almost taste it, but this is where things are most precarious.

A small tip in one way or another and everything loses balance. Edelgard stakes the safety of the world above on Dimitri's promise - no, on his love for Claude and Claude's control over his moods. But then, what was that she said? _I've learned a great many things._ Maybe she's changed, too.

It's hard to tell by looking at her. Dimitri doesn't know her as he once did, as close allies turned rivals, turned allies again - but he thinks that there's something different about her now.

Whether it's enough to avoid a war is anyone's guess, but with Claude keeping the peace and careful balance between them, Dimitri thinks that they've at least bought _time_. Time to walk along the meadows, see the birds fly above, sail the seas together. Time to live among the humans in life and in death, to be with one another and everyone else.

All things end, eventually. Even for gods. But for this... well, he'll keep his end of the bargain for as long as he can.

“Alright,” he finally says, and lets go of his dark lance. The weapon dissipates into thin air beside him, as the other vestiges of his power sinks into the earth. A sign of his trust.

“There will be no war between us. You concern yourself with the heavens and I'll concern myself with the underworld.”

Edelgard arches an eyebrow, still defensive, but her weapons are lowered. “And you will not meddle in the affairs of the mortals who still walk the earth?”

He shakes his head, conceding. This should feel like a defeat, but it doesn't. The god who would ride into war with his favored armies is dead, has been dead for centuries. Now, the only thing he concerns himself with are the spirits that the wars leave behind.

“It isn't my realm anymore. Nor yours, from my understanding.”

Edelgard lets slip a rare smile at that - not condescending or smug, but merely happy, as if this arrangement heals something close to her heart.

“Then so be it.” She shifts to lay her axe down and lifts her hands, which catch in the sunlight and gleam with a heavenly power. “I rescind my ruling from all those years ago. You are free to leave the underworld as you see fit - to walk among us, your siblings and friends, who have missed you and longed for your return.”

The limits of Edelgard's power were never absolute. Dimitri broke her ruling when he rescued Claude, but when he did, she was alerted immediately and responded within minutes. With this, the weight of her judgement lifting from his shoulders, she wouldn't know at all if he'd slipped above for any amount of time. There would be no weight tying him to this place, no decree that said that all gods were to subdue him if he came too close.

It is freedom. Dimitri breathes it in and nods, his eye closed for a moment as he tries to discern just what this might mean.

“And as for you, Claude…” Edelgard starts, lowering her hands and turning toward him. “I do hope you'll consider returning with us now. The sooner we can begin healing the world, the better.”

Claude nods slowly, watching Edelgard with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We should all go up together. It'll send a good message - no one will doubt that Dimitri is allowed above the earth again if he returns at your side.”

It’s true and Dimitri lets out a long exhale at the thought of it. Even in the best of times, he’d still envisioned this as Claude walking away from him, toward the light. That Claude wants _him_ to ascend to the surface, _now_ \- it’s just another reason he loves him, on top of everything else.

Claude steps closer to Dimitri and reaches out to take his hand, affirming:

“I won't shirk my duties. But I don't want to return without him. All three of us, together. Just this once.”

“Just this once.”

Edelgard repeats it softly with a nod. It's true that the request tries her patience, but she is not a stupid woman - she knows what it means to all of them and somewhere, somehow, it means something to her too. To reconcile. To become allies again, as they had been for so long. She lets out a long breath and something in her shoulders slackens as she steps aside, looking back through the dark and lonely cavern toward where Dimitri knows that somewhere, there is light.

She turns away from them then, and starts to walk.

They could move more quickly than this. Dimitri could create another portal, or Hubert could, or Ferdinand could summon his chariot. But they don't. It feels different to put one foot in front of the other, trailing after the queen of the heavens as she leads him out of this prison that he had been trapped in for an eternity. Dimitri tucks his fingers around Claude's own as Ferdinand and Hubert move to walk by their emperor's side.

They're joined by Petra up above, but Dorothea hangs back, falls into step with the two gods behind them and offers Claude a watery smile, still almost overcome with emotion of what they'd done. Her hair is tangled, dirt smudging her perfect cheek, but she shines with an unparalleled radiance all the same.

“I think I know the perfect tune to use when I sing about what happened here,” she confides in the both of them, taking a slow, shuddering breath.

When she starts to hum, it's beautiful. Their action is woven into song as they walk, and Dimitri closes his eye for a moment just to listen to it: dark lovers, risking everything for one another, embracing over a battlefield. A war prevented, a punishment rescinded, an earth made whole once more. There are no words to it yet, but the simple tune echoes in the rocks around them, carved eternally into this passage of the underworld.

By the time she tapers off, Dimitri can see the first inklings of sunlight at the end of the cavern.

This is it.

He hesitates here, coming to a standstill now that it's here, now that it's real. Edelgard's red cape is in front of him, Hubert and Ferdinand are murmuring to one another, and he can't - he can barely breathe when his feet reach the edge of the shadow.

Dimitri looks down at it, the border between their worlds. Ahead of him, Edelgard turns back, confused that he'd stopped, but not saying a word. His heart feels as if it's going to burst, and he wants nothing more than to leap across the threshold and throw himself on the grass, but it almost feels like too much. His throat works at swallowing, eye fixated at that single dividing line of light and darkness.

And then, there's a gloved hand.

Edelgard reaches out to him from her position on the side of the light, her palm facing upward in gentle reassurance. She's reserved and calm now, waiting patiently for him to take her outstretched hand and be guided past the threshold that separates his kingdom from all the others.

He slowly lifts his arm and takes the gesture for the invitation that it is, though his other hand is still firmly grasped around Claude's own fingers.

He steps across.

**Author's Note:**

> For this fic, Claude POV is written by Asael - follow me [@asaelfic](https://twitter.com/asaelfic)!
> 
> Dimitri POV will be written by Rae - follow her [@unraelated](https://twitter.com/unraelated)!
> 
> There may be a bit of a wait until the next chapter! Thank you for reading!


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